The Changtique Shoppe, 18 of 21
Title: The Changtique Shoppe
Pairings/Characters: Jaejoong/Changmin, Yunho/Heechul, Yoochun, Ryeowook, Kyuhyun, Leeteuk, Donghae, Junsu, G-Dragon,
Rating/Warnings: T for language and (eventual) making out
Disclaimer: I own nothing; written just for fun
Summary: Changmin owns an antique shop. Jaejoong is an interior decorator. Ryeowook is a genius who bakes delicious cake.
A/N: (cross posted to AO3)
The Changtique Shoppe, Part 18
Changmin didn’t check his phone again until the next morning after he had been fighting consciousness with his head under his pillow for nearly an hour. Starting to lose to the empty gurglings in his stomach, he reached for his phone in an attempt to distract himself from his growing hunger so he could delay the trek to the cold and distant kitchen. God, if they made bathrooms attached to bedrooms, why couldn’t they just attach the kitchen, too?
Before he could load kakao, Changmin saw his voicemail notifications. Groaning into the mattress, he played the one at the top of the list that Yoochun had left the day before, reminding him to find or buy some colored cellophane wrapping for the Christmas party at Heechul’s that night. Changmin rolled over, blinking at the cieling and trying to remember if there was still a roll of cellophane in the storage closet downstairs or if he needed to--
Wait, Christmas party? When had that been decided? He smeared his face back into the pillow, trying to remember all of the things that he should’ve written in his calendar but hadn’t had the patience to bother with recently. He sat up and dialed Yoochun.
“Are you home?” Changmin demanded before he could answer. Yoochun muffled a laugh.
“No, I’m at the cafe getting some work done. We’re out of coffee again.”
“Oh. So exactly how big is this party supposed to be?”
“I take it you just now checked your voicemail?” Changmin cringed at the liquid amusement in Yoochun’s voice
“Shut up.”
“Not big, don’t worry. Kyu, Wookie, and Yunho, I think, plus us makes six, and maybe some of the guys from Yunho’s dance crew and a spare girlfriend or two. Although I dunno who will actually make it, the weather’s supposed to be shit tonight.”
“Oh yeah? As in precipitation?”
“Mmhmm, a couple more inches of snow, apparently.”
“Lovely,” Changmin said, peeking through his blinds at the glittering white dusting across the rooftops. “Is someone cooking tonight, or…?”
“Yeah, someone’s cooking, I dunno what though. I picked up some drinks, so maybe if you want to bring something edible…”
“Like salad?”
“God, why do you idiots insist on eating green things on what would otherwise be happy occasions?” Yoochun moaned. “Ryeowook already beat you to the salad, I think, but whatever floats your boat.”
“Ok.”
“Listen, I really gotta finish this file, but I’ll be home by eight, and we can go together?”
“Sure.”
“Cool. Later, Min.”
With something now on his agenda to work around, Changmin felt a sudden burst of motivation, more than he had felt in days. He wrapped in his favorite lumpy sweater and went right down to do battle with the storage closet.
There was indeed an ample supply of cellophane in multiple colors stashed behind a brass four poster bed frame. Unfortunately, none of it was in traditional Christmas colors, but what the hell, purple was a nice color any time of year and if someone complained, they could shove it.
Feeling very accomplished having navigated the back room and emerged triumphant, and all before 8:57 in the morning, Changmin decided it was time for a thorough cleaning back there.
The first few feet into the storage area were decently presentable. Changmin sorted through the stacks of boxes anyway, double checking his inventory and relabeling everything before running up for a quick snack around noon.
The darkest back corner proved a little more treacherous, a wicker picnicking hamper nearly giving him a heart attack when it snagged protruding twigs into his sweater that felt like bony fingers through the thick material. The start of shock sent him tripping over a late Joseon-era kettle, but his bruised tibia was worth it to rediscover a lovely pair of pewter candlesticks shrouded in a soft cloth on the dark shelf where he had forgotten them months before.
They were a beautifully matched pair, the strong lines of the regal stems flowing to heavy, rounded bases. The simple masculine elegance would complement perfectly the sitting room Jaejoong had designed for that client they had visited together, and Changmin reached for his phone, wondering if Jaejoong had finally finished that project yet.
He frowned, blinking, when his phone informed him of no new messages, missed calls, or app invites. There weren’t even any twitter notifications. Jaejoong’s uncharacteristic silence made him uneasy, like the calm before the storm, or however that saying went. Constant pestering was annoying, yes, but at least it kept him in the loop. Silence was hard to read. Silence was frustrating. Silence was...confusing. And Shim Changmin wasn’t used to confusion.
Changmin sniffed and then sneezed, the small noise echoing through the empty shop. The dust must be getting to him, time to go shower and eat something. He checked the time. Shit, already after 4:00. No time to cook anything now.
Changmin showered quickly and grabbed the last dried persimmon out of the fruit bowl on his way out the door. If he hurried, he could make it to the patisserie down by the main road for some kind of something that went with salad.
He was in luck, the shelves of the bakery still lined with a decent selection, and he grabbed a few of the first appetizing thing he saw, some kind of crusty herb bread. The woman at the counter sliced the baguette for him and recommended a jar of olive cheese spread to go with it.
Changmin was just daubing the last few slices of bread with the cheese when Yoochun slipped into the kitchen, his nose red with cold.
“Are you almost ready to go?” Yoochun dropped his briefcase in the doorway and rubbed his fingers together in the warmth of the kitchen.
“Yeah, just about.” Changmin leaned down to arrange the bread slices precisely on the platter.
“Wrapping stuff?”
“Already in the car.”
“Kay. I’m gonna go change, be right back.” Yoochun hurried down the hall, his scarf slipping off one shoulder. He came back a few minutes later pulling a suitcase with a stack of files balanced precariously on top.
“What’s with the luggage?” Changmin gestured vaguely at Yoochun’s tweed rolling carry-on.
“Did you listen to your voicemail? All of it?” Yoochun knelt to shove the manila folders into his bulging briefcase before following Changmin to the stairs.
“Oh. Nope.” Changmin slipped into his boots and hurried down the steps, Yoochun trailing slowly behind him. Yoochun sighed heavily as he reached the bottom and reached over to steady the heavy hors d'oeuvres platter balanced precariously on Changmin’s knee as he fiddled with the key in the sticky front door lock. Changmin finally extracted the key and popped the trunk before tossing the key ring into the front seat.
“I’m flying to Hong Kong tomorrow. I’m staying over after the party and Yunho’s giving me a ride to the airport in the morning.” Yoochun nestled his suitcase between a box of pewter soup tureens and the bubble-wrapped body of a Bakelite radio before shutting the trunk.
“Oh. You’re spending the night? You could’ve just asked me.” Changmin keyed the transmission and immediately turned up the heater. It was even colder than the day before.
“But you were gone, and I didn’t know if you’d check your voicemail.” Yoochun clicked his seat belt into place and took the platter from Changmin.
“Oh. Sorry.” Changmin backed out from the curb and took a sharp right at the corner.
“‘S fine,” Yoochun sighed. “Yunho doesn’t mind.” Changmin frowned ahead at the road. "Run back up and grab your toothbrush and you can stay too, if you're lonely~!" Changmin snorted. "Seriously though, the snow might get bad tonight," Yoochun insisted.
“But why Hong Kong?” Yoochun chuckled at the sharp note in Changmin’s question.
“Just another meeting. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in time for Christmas so we bachelors can be lonely together. Do you wanna love shot some soju and share our last bowl of instant noodles, roomie?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Changmin.
“Gross.” He punched a button to make the wipers move faster. Yoochun hooted.
“Its a date! I’m looking forward to Christmas Eve now~” Changmin aimed a blind punch but it only glanced off the shoulder of Yoochun’s puffy coat. Yoochun took the hint though and shut up, plugging in earbuds for the rest of the trip.
It was snowing rather heavily by the time they made it to Heechul’s apartment, a penthouse in a high rise only slightly less flashy than Jaejoong’s. Yoochun dusted the sprinkling of flakes from their hair and shoulders while they waited for the elevator before it had a chance to melt.
They easily located Heechul’s unit on the 14th floor from the loud colors of the abstract mosaic adorning the door that Jaejoong had probably designed for him. If you squinted just right, you could sort of make out the hangul for “Kim” sprawled across the highly patterned surface. Sort of.
“Come in!” Heechul bellowed loudly as soon as Yoochun pressed the bell.
“...knew it was locked, you dumbass!” they heard Kyuhyun scold as Ryeowook answered the door a moment later.
“Happy Christmas!” Ryeowook grinned.
“Happy New Year!” Yunho appeared beside him in the doorway to echo the sentiment.
“Happy everything!” Yoochun greeted, slipping out of his shoes and passing off his bags to Yunho. Changmin handed off the platter to Ryeowook.
“I hope you like olives.”
“Oooh~, what is this?” Ryeowook gasped in feigned surprise. “Little Changminnie actually cooked? For me?”
“This is not your party, hyung.” Changmin kicked his boots off, prickling at the endearment. “And no, not really, unless artful arrangement of prepackaged goods counts as ‘cooking’.”
“Close enough, close enough.” Ryeowook snuck fingers under the plastic wrap to snag a piece of bread.
“Quit gossipping in the hallway and get your asses in here! I have something to show you, Changmin.”
“Oh yeah?” Changmin followed the direction of Heechul’s voice into the living room. Ryeowook slid the bread plate onto the coffee table and plopped down beside it on the rug.
“Ja ja~ng!” Heechul stood on the center cushion of the sofa preening, a large cross pendant encrusted with a rainbow of rhinestones nestled heavily into the chest of another fluffy sweater, this one a nubbly turquoise knit shot with scratchy looking gold threads.
“Augh, take it off!” Changmin groaned, covering his eyes with a flop of his wrist. “I don’t want to see anything shiny ever again.”
“What now, did Jaejoong surprise decorate your shop window for the holidays?” Heechul crooned. Changmin shuddered at the thought.
“Why, just why,” Changmin moaned, blinking his eyes back open at the sparkle-tacular necklace.
“Yeah,” Kyuhyun echoed. “You aren’t religious, Heechul-hyung.”
“It’s not religious, it’s bling.” Heechul flipped his hair over his shoulder. “Huge difference.”
“Really,” Yunho deadpanned in agreement, coming in from the bedroom with Yoochun at his heels. “I’d like to see a nun try to keep a straight face with that piece of work on.” Heechul hurled a throw pillow at his boyfriend’s grinning face with deadly aim.
“Where is Jaejoong, anyway?” Kyuhyun piped up as Yoochun barely saved the ricocheting cushion from careening into a bowl of salsa.
“He went to support a friend’s soccer game,” Yunho answered, siinking into the sofa and pulling Heechul down next to him for a massage.
“Soccer? In this weather?” Yoochun laughed incredulously.
“I think it’s indoor soccer?” Ryeowook offered.
“Who’s the friend? Someone from college?”
“No...Kim Junsu? Lee Junsu? Something like that.” Ryeowook gave an impatient wave.
Kim Junsu. The gold name tag of the grinning waiter from the restaurant flashed across Changmin’s vision and a dull fist of nausea punched him hard in the gut.
“I tried to lure him with cheesecake, but it didn’t work,” Ryeowook added with a sad pout.
“That’s odd,” Yoochun said, stuffing a lump of fried fish smothered in mayonnaise into his mouth.
“Yeah. And he also texted me a bunch of unintelligible angsty crap this morning.” Ryeowook reached for his phone.
“Really?” Changmin shifted uncomfortably where he stood on the edge of the rug. Jaejoong hadn’t texted him any unintelligible angsty crap at all today.
“And I quote, “I don’t deserve cake because yesterday was a miserable failure,”” Ryeowook read aloud in an eerily accurate approximation of Jaejoong’s husky voice. Heechul snickered, his shoulders shaking under Yunho’s kneading thumbs.
“What’s got him out of sorts?” Kyuhyun wondered, demolishing the rest of the fish before Yoochun could make a move for it.
“A butterfly breathed in Guatemala?” Heechul suggested with a snort. Kyuhyun rolled his eyes.
“Insects don’t even have lungs.”
"“I don’t deserve cake?”” Yoochun repeated. “That doesn’t sound like his normal egotistical self. Do you know what’s wrong with your roommate, Yunho?”
“Really, it doesn’t?” Yunho laughed. “Jae switches between egotistical and self-deprecating faster than I can keep up, I think he’s ok.” Heechul groaned in pleasure as Yunho twisted the point of his elbow deeper into his shoulder. “He seemed pretty excited about the game tonight.” Something tight cramped in Changmin's gut.
“You were with him all day yesterday, weren’t you Changmin?” Yoochun quirked an eyebrow.
“Any idea?” Ryeowook turned on him with piercing eyes.
“Oh. I may have, um, sabotaged his Christmas shopping. Oops?” Changmin dropped to the floor with a thud, guilt filtering salty and acrid through his mouth as he remembered the broken look in Jaejoong’s eyes on the street outside the boutique.
“Who cares about him, he’s not even here,” Kyuhyun groused, fingertips skimming the bottom of the empty nut bowl. “Is the food ready yet?”
“The salad is.” Ryeowook flicked a lonely peanut skin at Kyuhyun’s forehead.
“Hyung!” Kyuhyun whined. “Where’s my lasagna?” Ryeowook got up with a sigh. Changmin followed him to the kitchen to help carry the plates. Also to get out of the suffocating room. Everyone seemed so concerned about stupid Jaejoong but no one had noticed his own growing unease. Changmin tripped over the door sill.
“And where’s my cellophane?” Heechul called after them.
“Shit!” Changmin punched the doorjamb with the heel of his fist. “I left it in the car. I can run down for it if you want, though.” Changmin held the fridge door open for Ryeowook as he pulled a large bowl of tossed salad from the top shelf.
“It’s ok, you don’t have to go back down for it. It’s cooold~ out there.” Ryeowook dropped the chilled metal bowl onto the counter and rubbed his palms together.
“Hell yes.” Changmin shivered just thinking of the lonely drive home ahead of him. He’d probably have to fight a blizzard the whole way while Yoochun snuggled cozily in one of Heechul’s electric blanket collection, the bastard.
“You want a drink?” Ryeowook shrugged a shoulder towards an assortment of bottles lined on the counter.
“Um, no thanks.” Changmin decided in one glance that his stomach didn’t need any liquid nausea tonight. “What did he need cellophane for anyway?” Ryeowook eased the heavy casserole dish out of the oven and rested it to cool on the stovetop. Changmin sighed as the rush of hot air emanating from the oven door curled over his toes and drifted up to his ears.
“I think someone mentioned a human christmas tree trimming game?” Ryeowook selected a knife and starting slicing long strokes through the bubbling cheese. “But I think that just got vetoed in favor of a Home Alone marathon,” he said, craning an ear towards the living room where Yoochun and Kyuhyun had commenced to squabble over the TV remote.
“Lovely.”
“You ok?” Ryeowook flicked on the faucet to rinse the knife before scooping out the first thick square of lasagna with a spatula. It looked a lot like Jaejoong’s lucky spatula, Changmin thought absently, just not as pink.
“Min-ah?”
“Huh?” Changmin blinked as Ryeowook pushed a steaming plate into his hands.
“Cause you know I’m always here for you if you need coffee, brutal honesty, or some more advice.” Ryeowook smiled, long eyelashes lowering in a languid blink.
“Your advice didn’t work.” The words came out a little more accusatory than Changmin intended.
“Really?” Ryeowook looked a little surprised. Either surprised or curious. “Normally it should work,” he said with a thoughtful frown. “To which piece of advice are you referring?” Ryeowook loaded the plates onto a lacquer tray and Changmin grabbed the salad bowl.
“The part about saying ‘no,’” Changmin whined, dragging his feet back to the living room.
“You said ‘no’ to Jaejoong?” Ryeowook prompted, making room on the low table for the tray. Kyuhyun scooted closer, a look of malicious intent in his narrowed eyes. “You’re going to burn your mouth, and then you won’t be able to taste the cheesecake!” Ryeowook scolded, batting Kyuhyun’s eager fingers away from the forks. Four pair of hungry eyes zoned in on the plumes of fragrant steam.
“I said ‘no’ to Jaejoong and it did not work at all. It did the opposite of work.” Changmin hugged the salad bowl awkwardly, still standing at the edge of the ring of hungry men crowding the table.
“That’s...odd,” Ryeowook finally managed, staring up at him with serious eyes.
“This is Jaejoong we’re talking about,” Kyuhyun said with an eyes. “Is there anything normal about Jaejoong?” Changmin thought about that for moment.
“He likes cats?” Yunho suggested. Kyuhyun face palmed as Heechul hummed in agreement.
“Tell me what happened,” Ryeowook said softly, meeting Changmin’s eyes again with a look of warm sympathy. Changmin wavered. He wanted to spill everything, every infuriating detail that was currently churning about in his gut, wanted to tell all his feelings to something that could reciprocate more than his pillow, wanted Ryeowook to wash it all away with hot cocoa and hugs.
Ryeowook finally released his protective hold on the tray and four bodies dove for the plates, fighting to claim the largest piece. Changmin bit his lip, still hesitating. He didn’t normally care for this much of an audience when unloading the banal details of this neverending saga, but what the hell. Kyuhyun had already gotten the abridged version via text, and even Heechul couldn’t do that much damage with information as lame as the details of someone else’s shopping drama, right?
Changmin gulped and opened his mouth before he could think better of that last thought and proceeded to tell everything, everything, about the cold and the crying baby and how disgusting the trash in the street had smelled and how Jiyong had practically nose dived off a folding chair into his arms and how the stupid flowers at the stupid restaurant had made him gag and how stupid Jaejoong with the stupid face still hadn’t given him a time frame for buying back the ring and how much December sucked because there was sappy disgusting couple stuff everywhere on TV commercials and station ads and in bakery windows and how Jaejoong couldn’t keep his eyes off his stupid phone for anything other than the slutty waiter’s fucking ass and how it was cold and how Jaejoong was stupid enough to wander around Seoul in negative temperatures without a scarf and how much he had wanted to strangle that obnoxious girl who was yakking on her obnoxious cell phone smack dab in front of the courtesy poster blatantly pasted to the train window.
By the time Changmin stopped for air, Yoochun was halfway through his lasagna, Kyuhyun had practically licked the sauce from his plate, and Yunho was yawning sleepily, his head nestled against Heechul’s now fully relaxed shoulder.
“So, let me get this straight,” Ryeowook paused, fiddling with the salad tongs, “You think it backfired when you were clear with Jaejoong and tried saying ‘no’.”
“Think it backfired!” Changmin laughed bitterly, sinking onto the floor between Ryeowook and the sofa. “Ryeowook it totally did! I said ‘no’ and he took off with my wallet! I mean he practically abducted me and held me hostage!” Changmin stabbed the tines of his fork into a cube of tomato, splattering fragrant juice across the edge of his plate.
“So you’re angry because he didn’t listen to your feelings and selfishly made the decision to go shopping without your input.” Ryeowook calmly bit into a piece of bread, a gob of soft cheese sliding down his chin.
“Uh huh.” Changmin nodded emphatically and handed Ryeowook a napkin.
“Thanks.”
“But I think I’m even more mad that he humiliated me in public.”
“Oh,” Kyuhyun said, nodding understandingly.
“First in the train station, then in the shop. I mean why would he do that?” Changmin had been going over it for hours but he still couldn’t understand at all.
“Did you consider that he might have been jealous?” Kyuhyun asked. Ryeowook looked over sharply. Kyuhyun smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
“What?” Changmin whimpered, still very confused by the whole thing. Heechul reached down to pat him reassuringly on the head and Kyuhyun took advantage of the opportunity to steal the last gulp of Heechul’s sparkling wine.
“Yah! I raised you better than that!” Heechul lunged for the snickering culprit, dislodging Yunho who sat up with a start. “Dirty barbarian!” Heechul whalloped Kyuhyun’s shoulders with the last cushion still in reach.
“Wait, why would he be jealous?” Changmin exclaimed, his brain finally working up to speed. “If anything I should be the one allowed to be jealous of the way he was ogling waiter Mr. Kim Junsu’s ass!” The open mouthed shock on Yoochun’s face shot a wave of heat across Changmin’s as he realized what he had said and Changmin hastily shoved a forkful of something into his big fat stupid mouth. He really had to get a handle on this bad habit of uncensored speech in front of gossipy company, really really.
“Wait, who did you just say the waiter’s name was?” Heechul’s hand froze mid-smack. “Was it an Italian restaurant by any chance?” Ryeowook looked down at his plate and gave a quiet cough.
“Huh? It was--ggahhgh!” Changmin cried, far beyond simple frustration now as his phone interrupted an important conversation yet again, just as they were getting somewhere maybe slightly a teensy bit helpful. The number was unfamiliar but he thumbed the screen to answer anyway. If it was a telemarketer, they were in for a colorful greeting.
“Hello?”
“Min-ah! It’s snowing~! Did you look outside?” a husky voice slurred over a roll of raucous laughter in the background.
“Jaejoong?”
“Changmin!”
“Are you drunk? I thought you were at a soccer game!”
“Were, Minnie, was. Now I’m at the after party!” Changmin slumped forward with a sick slosh in his stomach at the thought of Jaejoong at a wild victory party celebrating with a certain someone.
“Have fun, Jaejoong. Knock yourself out. I really don’t give--”
“Min!”
“What.” There was a long pause and Changmin could make out the strains of “Love So Sweet” being warbled in an awkward key with atrocious pronunciation. Then the connection crackled and someone else was panting into the phone.
“Hi,” said the breathless voice. “Is this Jae’s friend?”
“Yes,” Changmin said grudgingly. “And who are you?”
“Oh thank goodness! Knowing Jae I thought he had drunk dialed my boss or something.” The voice laughed nervously. “I’m Kim Junsu.”
“I see.”
"Is this Changmin."
"Unfortunately, yes."
“Sorry for, uh, bothering you. Jae wanted to call and ask you for a ride home, but his phone was dead and I offered to take him. I didn’t realize he knew the password to my phone.” Junsu laughed again. It was getting annoying. “So, just--”
“I’ll come get him," Changmin cut him off. "Where are you.” They didn’t have time to chitchat on the phone if Jaejoong was stranded somewhere and wanted to go home, needed to--
“Really, it’s ok, the weather’s bad and--”
“Another reason I shouldn’t trust your driving skills to get him home safe!”
“Excuse me?” Junsu questioned crossly before the connection went fuzzy again.
“Min-ah?” Changmin breathed a sigh of relief at the soft whine of Jaejoong’s familiar voice.
“Where are you!”
“Changminnie, are you mad?”
“Yes!” Changmin snapped.
“I’m sorry. I’ll just go home with Junsu-yah if--”
“No way. You are not going anywhere with him. He’s probably drunker than you, he looks like a total lightweight!”
“I assure you I’m not.” Junsu was back on the line and did not sound amused. Changmin gulped. “But I haven’t been drinking at all tonight, I swear, so just--”
“No!” Changmin was getting really angry now. “Jaejoong’s not going anywhere unless I’m the one driving him! Just tell him to stay put and text me the address.”
“Fine!” Junsu huffed. The line cut, Changmin too busy fuming to notice who actually hung up first.
“I’m going now,” he announced to the room, shoving his mostly untouched plate onto the table.
“But we haven’t even cut the cake yet!” Ryeowook protested.
“Who the hell was that?” Heechul asked.
“Kim Junsu.” Changmin stood to put on his coat. “Bye. Have fun in Hong Kong or whatever, Yoochun.”
“Bye…” the subdued chorus of farewells followed him out to the hall. Changmin laced on his boots and pocketed his phone. Ryeowook popped his head around the corner hesitantly.
“If you want to come by tomorrow, I’ll try to save you some cake and give it to you then.”
“It’s ok, Ryeowook.” Ryeowook nodded. Changmin reached for the door handle.
“Calm down before you try to drive anywhere. Be safe.”
“Got it.” The door clicked shut behind him and Changmin was in darkness for a moment before the automated light kicked on in the corridor. The elevator and lobby were totally empty, but it was already after ten and it was really coming down out there, snow mixed with sleet. Changmin waited impatiently for his car to defrost after thoroughly scraping the windows. Winter was fucking annoying.
The heavy, twisting winds must have downed some of the power lines, because the street lights were out for several blocks past Heechul’s neighborhood, keeping Changmin’s speed to a crawl.
The address of the karaoke place Junsu had texted him was not too far away, close to the university they had attended in fact, but the trip took twice as long as it should have and Changmin was a wreck of nerves from trying to keep his skidding to a minimum.
Not too many other citizens were idiot enough to drive with the nasty road conditions so Changmin quickly found a nearby parking place upon arrival, heaving a sigh of relief when he could finally shut his eyes against the harsh glare of his own headlights in the windshield.
Changmin ducked into the building in a flurry of sleet, shaking the wet from his ears. The lobby was empty except for a teenage girl asleep on a textbook at the front desk. Changmin tiptoed towards the hall as if a squeak from his boots might wake her over the racket spilling from the not-so-sound-proofed booths.
Room number 5. He stopped outside the frosted glass door at the end of the hall, hesitating, his hand frozen on the door knob. He withdrew it to rap loudly, hoping he’d be heard over layers of music and thumping bass and rattling tambourines. The door burst open almost immediately.
“Oh, you’re here!” Junsu poked his head out of the doorway.
“Yup.”
“You’d better come in.” Junsu grabbed his wrist and tugged him inside and Changmin cringed, suddenly inundated by a wave of wailing falsetto.
“Heav-vy-y ro-o-tay-ay-shon!” A loud silhouette clutching the microphone was dancing on top of the table, wiggling his hips in fluid waves.
“Over here,” Junsu shouted, motioning to a bench where Jaejoong lay slumped face down. Changmin tripped over someone’s feet in his rush to cross the room.
“I’m here, Jaejoong. Are you ok? Let’s go home!”
“Mmf,” Jaejoong said sleepily, sitting up with a groan. It took three tries to pull him to his feet.
“Do you need me to help carry him?” Junsu yelled over the sound of the vibrato embellished chorus as they shoved Jaejoong’s limp arms into his jacket.
“No,” Changmin said firmly, buttoning Jaejoong in up to his chin.
“Ok. Well, goodbye then, I guess. He didn’t bring any gloves or anything.”
“Of course not,” Changmin snorted, stripping off his own to slip onto Jaejoong’s cold fingers.
“Bye Jae!”
“Goodbye Hyung!” Several of the lumps on the benches lifted arms to wave goodbye as they edged to the door, Changmin stumbling a bit under Jaejoong’s dead weight.
“Goodbye!” Changmin looked up as the energetic dancer swiveled to wave at them with both arms. “Oi, Changmin ssi!” he gasped.
“Goodbye,” Changmin snapped, glaring up at Lee Donghae, the traitorous dealer.
“Oh you two know each other?” Junsu asked in surprise.
“Goodbye.” Changmin shoved Jaejoong into the hallway and slammed the door behind them. Jaejoong didn’t say anything on the way to Changmin’s car, his chin tucked into his upturned collar, but at least he straightened up enough to walk mostly on his own.
“Just so you know, I’m missing out on creamy cheesecake with a tart raspberry filling layered into a crisp dark chocolate and mocha crust right now,” Changmin broke the silence as he buckled a limp Jaejoong into the passenger seat. “I hope you’re happy.” Changmin turned on the engine and waited for the car to warm up again. The wipers were working at top speed but the windshield was still a mess.
“Min-ah, I don’t feel so good.”
“I’m not even going to ask how much you had to drink, because I really don’t care.” Jaejoong’s eyes were dull black and sullen in his pinched white face.
“Then why did you come get me.” Jaejoong, as usual, had a point.
“Just try not to vomit on anything,” Changmin sighed in defeat.
“Min-ah, I’m cold.” For a second Changmin vindictively considered turning up the heat full blast and keeping it there til Jaejoong roasted, but thought better of it when he realized he’d be roasting too. He reached over and opened the glove box, the lid bumping against bony knees. Changmin extracted the muffler from the purple bag, batting at it irritably when the plastic clung to his knuckles with static.
“Here.” He turned to loop the soft ends of the scarf around Jaejoong’s delicate neck, tucking it into his coat. “And you better start wearing this regularly or you’re gonna get sick.” Jaejoong stared back with glazed eyes, mouth slightly open. Changmin looked away quickly and fiddled with the rearview mirror. “If you don’t like it, you can, you know, give it to Yunho or whatever.”
“Dumbass,” Jaejoong sniffled into the soft scarf, voice slightly muffled. “I already told you Heechul probably bought him one.”
“And there’s not room for two scarves in anyone’s closet?” Changmin scoffed lightly, trying to cover the sudden tremor in his voice as he pulled into the slushy street.
“No.” Jaejoong shook his head. “Not for two red ones, anyway.” He rolled onto his side and shut his eyes for the rest of the ride, his head lolling against the window, but Changmin’s heart gave a slight thrill when a handful of cold fingers curled into his before they’d made it another block.
Part 17, Part 19
Pairings/Characters: Jaejoong/Changmin, Yunho/Heechul, Yoochun, Ryeowook, Kyuhyun, Leeteuk, Donghae, Junsu, G-Dragon,
Rating/Warnings: T for language and (eventual) making out
Disclaimer: I own nothing; written just for fun
Summary: Changmin owns an antique shop. Jaejoong is an interior decorator. Ryeowook is a genius who bakes delicious cake.
A/N: (cross posted to AO3)
The Changtique Shoppe, Part 18
Changmin didn’t check his phone again until the next morning after he had been fighting consciousness with his head under his pillow for nearly an hour. Starting to lose to the empty gurglings in his stomach, he reached for his phone in an attempt to distract himself from his growing hunger so he could delay the trek to the cold and distant kitchen. God, if they made bathrooms attached to bedrooms, why couldn’t they just attach the kitchen, too?
Before he could load kakao, Changmin saw his voicemail notifications. Groaning into the mattress, he played the one at the top of the list that Yoochun had left the day before, reminding him to find or buy some colored cellophane wrapping for the Christmas party at Heechul’s that night. Changmin rolled over, blinking at the cieling and trying to remember if there was still a roll of cellophane in the storage closet downstairs or if he needed to--
Wait, Christmas party? When had that been decided? He smeared his face back into the pillow, trying to remember all of the things that he should’ve written in his calendar but hadn’t had the patience to bother with recently. He sat up and dialed Yoochun.
“Are you home?” Changmin demanded before he could answer. Yoochun muffled a laugh.
“No, I’m at the cafe getting some work done. We’re out of coffee again.”
“Oh. So exactly how big is this party supposed to be?”
“I take it you just now checked your voicemail?” Changmin cringed at the liquid amusement in Yoochun’s voice
“Shut up.”
“Not big, don’t worry. Kyu, Wookie, and Yunho, I think, plus us makes six, and maybe some of the guys from Yunho’s dance crew and a spare girlfriend or two. Although I dunno who will actually make it, the weather’s supposed to be shit tonight.”
“Oh yeah? As in precipitation?”
“Mmhmm, a couple more inches of snow, apparently.”
“Lovely,” Changmin said, peeking through his blinds at the glittering white dusting across the rooftops. “Is someone cooking tonight, or…?”
“Yeah, someone’s cooking, I dunno what though. I picked up some drinks, so maybe if you want to bring something edible…”
“Like salad?”
“God, why do you idiots insist on eating green things on what would otherwise be happy occasions?” Yoochun moaned. “Ryeowook already beat you to the salad, I think, but whatever floats your boat.”
“Ok.”
“Listen, I really gotta finish this file, but I’ll be home by eight, and we can go together?”
“Sure.”
“Cool. Later, Min.”
With something now on his agenda to work around, Changmin felt a sudden burst of motivation, more than he had felt in days. He wrapped in his favorite lumpy sweater and went right down to do battle with the storage closet.
There was indeed an ample supply of cellophane in multiple colors stashed behind a brass four poster bed frame. Unfortunately, none of it was in traditional Christmas colors, but what the hell, purple was a nice color any time of year and if someone complained, they could shove it.
Feeling very accomplished having navigated the back room and emerged triumphant, and all before 8:57 in the morning, Changmin decided it was time for a thorough cleaning back there.
The first few feet into the storage area were decently presentable. Changmin sorted through the stacks of boxes anyway, double checking his inventory and relabeling everything before running up for a quick snack around noon.
The darkest back corner proved a little more treacherous, a wicker picnicking hamper nearly giving him a heart attack when it snagged protruding twigs into his sweater that felt like bony fingers through the thick material. The start of shock sent him tripping over a late Joseon-era kettle, but his bruised tibia was worth it to rediscover a lovely pair of pewter candlesticks shrouded in a soft cloth on the dark shelf where he had forgotten them months before.
They were a beautifully matched pair, the strong lines of the regal stems flowing to heavy, rounded bases. The simple masculine elegance would complement perfectly the sitting room Jaejoong had designed for that client they had visited together, and Changmin reached for his phone, wondering if Jaejoong had finally finished that project yet.
He frowned, blinking, when his phone informed him of no new messages, missed calls, or app invites. There weren’t even any twitter notifications. Jaejoong’s uncharacteristic silence made him uneasy, like the calm before the storm, or however that saying went. Constant pestering was annoying, yes, but at least it kept him in the loop. Silence was hard to read. Silence was frustrating. Silence was...confusing. And Shim Changmin wasn’t used to confusion.
Changmin sniffed and then sneezed, the small noise echoing through the empty shop. The dust must be getting to him, time to go shower and eat something. He checked the time. Shit, already after 4:00. No time to cook anything now.
Changmin showered quickly and grabbed the last dried persimmon out of the fruit bowl on his way out the door. If he hurried, he could make it to the patisserie down by the main road for some kind of something that went with salad.
He was in luck, the shelves of the bakery still lined with a decent selection, and he grabbed a few of the first appetizing thing he saw, some kind of crusty herb bread. The woman at the counter sliced the baguette for him and recommended a jar of olive cheese spread to go with it.
Changmin was just daubing the last few slices of bread with the cheese when Yoochun slipped into the kitchen, his nose red with cold.
“Are you almost ready to go?” Yoochun dropped his briefcase in the doorway and rubbed his fingers together in the warmth of the kitchen.
“Yeah, just about.” Changmin leaned down to arrange the bread slices precisely on the platter.
“Wrapping stuff?”
“Already in the car.”
“Kay. I’m gonna go change, be right back.” Yoochun hurried down the hall, his scarf slipping off one shoulder. He came back a few minutes later pulling a suitcase with a stack of files balanced precariously on top.
“What’s with the luggage?” Changmin gestured vaguely at Yoochun’s tweed rolling carry-on.
“Did you listen to your voicemail? All of it?” Yoochun knelt to shove the manila folders into his bulging briefcase before following Changmin to the stairs.
“Oh. Nope.” Changmin slipped into his boots and hurried down the steps, Yoochun trailing slowly behind him. Yoochun sighed heavily as he reached the bottom and reached over to steady the heavy hors d'oeuvres platter balanced precariously on Changmin’s knee as he fiddled with the key in the sticky front door lock. Changmin finally extracted the key and popped the trunk before tossing the key ring into the front seat.
“I’m flying to Hong Kong tomorrow. I’m staying over after the party and Yunho’s giving me a ride to the airport in the morning.” Yoochun nestled his suitcase between a box of pewter soup tureens and the bubble-wrapped body of a Bakelite radio before shutting the trunk.
“Oh. You’re spending the night? You could’ve just asked me.” Changmin keyed the transmission and immediately turned up the heater. It was even colder than the day before.
“But you were gone, and I didn’t know if you’d check your voicemail.” Yoochun clicked his seat belt into place and took the platter from Changmin.
“Oh. Sorry.” Changmin backed out from the curb and took a sharp right at the corner.
“‘S fine,” Yoochun sighed. “Yunho doesn’t mind.” Changmin frowned ahead at the road. "Run back up and grab your toothbrush and you can stay too, if you're lonely~!" Changmin snorted. "Seriously though, the snow might get bad tonight," Yoochun insisted.
“But why Hong Kong?” Yoochun chuckled at the sharp note in Changmin’s question.
“Just another meeting. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in time for Christmas so we bachelors can be lonely together. Do you wanna love shot some soju and share our last bowl of instant noodles, roomie?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Changmin.
“Gross.” He punched a button to make the wipers move faster. Yoochun hooted.
“Its a date! I’m looking forward to Christmas Eve now~” Changmin aimed a blind punch but it only glanced off the shoulder of Yoochun’s puffy coat. Yoochun took the hint though and shut up, plugging in earbuds for the rest of the trip.
It was snowing rather heavily by the time they made it to Heechul’s apartment, a penthouse in a high rise only slightly less flashy than Jaejoong’s. Yoochun dusted the sprinkling of flakes from their hair and shoulders while they waited for the elevator before it had a chance to melt.
They easily located Heechul’s unit on the 14th floor from the loud colors of the abstract mosaic adorning the door that Jaejoong had probably designed for him. If you squinted just right, you could sort of make out the hangul for “Kim” sprawled across the highly patterned surface. Sort of.
“Come in!” Heechul bellowed loudly as soon as Yoochun pressed the bell.
“...knew it was locked, you dumbass!” they heard Kyuhyun scold as Ryeowook answered the door a moment later.
“Happy Christmas!” Ryeowook grinned.
“Happy New Year!” Yunho appeared beside him in the doorway to echo the sentiment.
“Happy everything!” Yoochun greeted, slipping out of his shoes and passing off his bags to Yunho. Changmin handed off the platter to Ryeowook.
“I hope you like olives.”
“Oooh~, what is this?” Ryeowook gasped in feigned surprise. “Little Changminnie actually cooked? For me?”
“This is not your party, hyung.” Changmin kicked his boots off, prickling at the endearment. “And no, not really, unless artful arrangement of prepackaged goods counts as ‘cooking’.”
“Close enough, close enough.” Ryeowook snuck fingers under the plastic wrap to snag a piece of bread.
“Quit gossipping in the hallway and get your asses in here! I have something to show you, Changmin.”
“Oh yeah?” Changmin followed the direction of Heechul’s voice into the living room. Ryeowook slid the bread plate onto the coffee table and plopped down beside it on the rug.
“Ja ja~ng!” Heechul stood on the center cushion of the sofa preening, a large cross pendant encrusted with a rainbow of rhinestones nestled heavily into the chest of another fluffy sweater, this one a nubbly turquoise knit shot with scratchy looking gold threads.
“Augh, take it off!” Changmin groaned, covering his eyes with a flop of his wrist. “I don’t want to see anything shiny ever again.”
“What now, did Jaejoong surprise decorate your shop window for the holidays?” Heechul crooned. Changmin shuddered at the thought.
“Why, just why,” Changmin moaned, blinking his eyes back open at the sparkle-tacular necklace.
“Yeah,” Kyuhyun echoed. “You aren’t religious, Heechul-hyung.”
“It’s not religious, it’s bling.” Heechul flipped his hair over his shoulder. “Huge difference.”
“Really,” Yunho deadpanned in agreement, coming in from the bedroom with Yoochun at his heels. “I’d like to see a nun try to keep a straight face with that piece of work on.” Heechul hurled a throw pillow at his boyfriend’s grinning face with deadly aim.
“Where is Jaejoong, anyway?” Kyuhyun piped up as Yoochun barely saved the ricocheting cushion from careening into a bowl of salsa.
“He went to support a friend’s soccer game,” Yunho answered, siinking into the sofa and pulling Heechul down next to him for a massage.
“Soccer? In this weather?” Yoochun laughed incredulously.
“I think it’s indoor soccer?” Ryeowook offered.
“Who’s the friend? Someone from college?”
“No...Kim Junsu? Lee Junsu? Something like that.” Ryeowook gave an impatient wave.
Kim Junsu. The gold name tag of the grinning waiter from the restaurant flashed across Changmin’s vision and a dull fist of nausea punched him hard in the gut.
“I tried to lure him with cheesecake, but it didn’t work,” Ryeowook added with a sad pout.
“That’s odd,” Yoochun said, stuffing a lump of fried fish smothered in mayonnaise into his mouth.
“Yeah. And he also texted me a bunch of unintelligible angsty crap this morning.” Ryeowook reached for his phone.
“Really?” Changmin shifted uncomfortably where he stood on the edge of the rug. Jaejoong hadn’t texted him any unintelligible angsty crap at all today.
“And I quote, “I don’t deserve cake because yesterday was a miserable failure,”” Ryeowook read aloud in an eerily accurate approximation of Jaejoong’s husky voice. Heechul snickered, his shoulders shaking under Yunho’s kneading thumbs.
“What’s got him out of sorts?” Kyuhyun wondered, demolishing the rest of the fish before Yoochun could make a move for it.
“A butterfly breathed in Guatemala?” Heechul suggested with a snort. Kyuhyun rolled his eyes.
“Insects don’t even have lungs.”
"“I don’t deserve cake?”” Yoochun repeated. “That doesn’t sound like his normal egotistical self. Do you know what’s wrong with your roommate, Yunho?”
“Really, it doesn’t?” Yunho laughed. “Jae switches between egotistical and self-deprecating faster than I can keep up, I think he’s ok.” Heechul groaned in pleasure as Yunho twisted the point of his elbow deeper into his shoulder. “He seemed pretty excited about the game tonight.” Something tight cramped in Changmin's gut.
“You were with him all day yesterday, weren’t you Changmin?” Yoochun quirked an eyebrow.
“Any idea?” Ryeowook turned on him with piercing eyes.
“Oh. I may have, um, sabotaged his Christmas shopping. Oops?” Changmin dropped to the floor with a thud, guilt filtering salty and acrid through his mouth as he remembered the broken look in Jaejoong’s eyes on the street outside the boutique.
“Who cares about him, he’s not even here,” Kyuhyun groused, fingertips skimming the bottom of the empty nut bowl. “Is the food ready yet?”
“The salad is.” Ryeowook flicked a lonely peanut skin at Kyuhyun’s forehead.
“Hyung!” Kyuhyun whined. “Where’s my lasagna?” Ryeowook got up with a sigh. Changmin followed him to the kitchen to help carry the plates. Also to get out of the suffocating room. Everyone seemed so concerned about stupid Jaejoong but no one had noticed his own growing unease. Changmin tripped over the door sill.
“And where’s my cellophane?” Heechul called after them.
“Shit!” Changmin punched the doorjamb with the heel of his fist. “I left it in the car. I can run down for it if you want, though.” Changmin held the fridge door open for Ryeowook as he pulled a large bowl of tossed salad from the top shelf.
“It’s ok, you don’t have to go back down for it. It’s cooold~ out there.” Ryeowook dropped the chilled metal bowl onto the counter and rubbed his palms together.
“Hell yes.” Changmin shivered just thinking of the lonely drive home ahead of him. He’d probably have to fight a blizzard the whole way while Yoochun snuggled cozily in one of Heechul’s electric blanket collection, the bastard.
“You want a drink?” Ryeowook shrugged a shoulder towards an assortment of bottles lined on the counter.
“Um, no thanks.” Changmin decided in one glance that his stomach didn’t need any liquid nausea tonight. “What did he need cellophane for anyway?” Ryeowook eased the heavy casserole dish out of the oven and rested it to cool on the stovetop. Changmin sighed as the rush of hot air emanating from the oven door curled over his toes and drifted up to his ears.
“I think someone mentioned a human christmas tree trimming game?” Ryeowook selected a knife and starting slicing long strokes through the bubbling cheese. “But I think that just got vetoed in favor of a Home Alone marathon,” he said, craning an ear towards the living room where Yoochun and Kyuhyun had commenced to squabble over the TV remote.
“Lovely.”
“You ok?” Ryeowook flicked on the faucet to rinse the knife before scooping out the first thick square of lasagna with a spatula. It looked a lot like Jaejoong’s lucky spatula, Changmin thought absently, just not as pink.
“Min-ah?”
“Huh?” Changmin blinked as Ryeowook pushed a steaming plate into his hands.
“Cause you know I’m always here for you if you need coffee, brutal honesty, or some more advice.” Ryeowook smiled, long eyelashes lowering in a languid blink.
“Your advice didn’t work.” The words came out a little more accusatory than Changmin intended.
“Really?” Ryeowook looked a little surprised. Either surprised or curious. “Normally it should work,” he said with a thoughtful frown. “To which piece of advice are you referring?” Ryeowook loaded the plates onto a lacquer tray and Changmin grabbed the salad bowl.
“The part about saying ‘no,’” Changmin whined, dragging his feet back to the living room.
“You said ‘no’ to Jaejoong?” Ryeowook prompted, making room on the low table for the tray. Kyuhyun scooted closer, a look of malicious intent in his narrowed eyes. “You’re going to burn your mouth, and then you won’t be able to taste the cheesecake!” Ryeowook scolded, batting Kyuhyun’s eager fingers away from the forks. Four pair of hungry eyes zoned in on the plumes of fragrant steam.
“I said ‘no’ to Jaejoong and it did not work at all. It did the opposite of work.” Changmin hugged the salad bowl awkwardly, still standing at the edge of the ring of hungry men crowding the table.
“That’s...odd,” Ryeowook finally managed, staring up at him with serious eyes.
“This is Jaejoong we’re talking about,” Kyuhyun said with an eyes. “Is there anything normal about Jaejoong?” Changmin thought about that for moment.
“He likes cats?” Yunho suggested. Kyuhyun face palmed as Heechul hummed in agreement.
“Tell me what happened,” Ryeowook said softly, meeting Changmin’s eyes again with a look of warm sympathy. Changmin wavered. He wanted to spill everything, every infuriating detail that was currently churning about in his gut, wanted to tell all his feelings to something that could reciprocate more than his pillow, wanted Ryeowook to wash it all away with hot cocoa and hugs.
Ryeowook finally released his protective hold on the tray and four bodies dove for the plates, fighting to claim the largest piece. Changmin bit his lip, still hesitating. He didn’t normally care for this much of an audience when unloading the banal details of this neverending saga, but what the hell. Kyuhyun had already gotten the abridged version via text, and even Heechul couldn’t do that much damage with information as lame as the details of someone else’s shopping drama, right?
Changmin gulped and opened his mouth before he could think better of that last thought and proceeded to tell everything, everything, about the cold and the crying baby and how disgusting the trash in the street had smelled and how Jiyong had practically nose dived off a folding chair into his arms and how the stupid flowers at the stupid restaurant had made him gag and how stupid Jaejoong with the stupid face still hadn’t given him a time frame for buying back the ring and how much December sucked because there was sappy disgusting couple stuff everywhere on TV commercials and station ads and in bakery windows and how Jaejoong couldn’t keep his eyes off his stupid phone for anything other than the slutty waiter’s fucking ass and how it was cold and how Jaejoong was stupid enough to wander around Seoul in negative temperatures without a scarf and how much he had wanted to strangle that obnoxious girl who was yakking on her obnoxious cell phone smack dab in front of the courtesy poster blatantly pasted to the train window.
By the time Changmin stopped for air, Yoochun was halfway through his lasagna, Kyuhyun had practically licked the sauce from his plate, and Yunho was yawning sleepily, his head nestled against Heechul’s now fully relaxed shoulder.
“So, let me get this straight,” Ryeowook paused, fiddling with the salad tongs, “You think it backfired when you were clear with Jaejoong and tried saying ‘no’.”
“Think it backfired!” Changmin laughed bitterly, sinking onto the floor between Ryeowook and the sofa. “Ryeowook it totally did! I said ‘no’ and he took off with my wallet! I mean he practically abducted me and held me hostage!” Changmin stabbed the tines of his fork into a cube of tomato, splattering fragrant juice across the edge of his plate.
“So you’re angry because he didn’t listen to your feelings and selfishly made the decision to go shopping without your input.” Ryeowook calmly bit into a piece of bread, a gob of soft cheese sliding down his chin.
“Uh huh.” Changmin nodded emphatically and handed Ryeowook a napkin.
“Thanks.”
“But I think I’m even more mad that he humiliated me in public.”
“Oh,” Kyuhyun said, nodding understandingly.
“First in the train station, then in the shop. I mean why would he do that?” Changmin had been going over it for hours but he still couldn’t understand at all.
“Did you consider that he might have been jealous?” Kyuhyun asked. Ryeowook looked over sharply. Kyuhyun smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
“What?” Changmin whimpered, still very confused by the whole thing. Heechul reached down to pat him reassuringly on the head and Kyuhyun took advantage of the opportunity to steal the last gulp of Heechul’s sparkling wine.
“Yah! I raised you better than that!” Heechul lunged for the snickering culprit, dislodging Yunho who sat up with a start. “Dirty barbarian!” Heechul whalloped Kyuhyun’s shoulders with the last cushion still in reach.
“Wait, why would he be jealous?” Changmin exclaimed, his brain finally working up to speed. “If anything I should be the one allowed to be jealous of the way he was ogling waiter Mr. Kim Junsu’s ass!” The open mouthed shock on Yoochun’s face shot a wave of heat across Changmin’s as he realized what he had said and Changmin hastily shoved a forkful of something into his big fat stupid mouth. He really had to get a handle on this bad habit of uncensored speech in front of gossipy company, really really.
“Wait, who did you just say the waiter’s name was?” Heechul’s hand froze mid-smack. “Was it an Italian restaurant by any chance?” Ryeowook looked down at his plate and gave a quiet cough.
“Huh? It was--ggahhgh!” Changmin cried, far beyond simple frustration now as his phone interrupted an important conversation yet again, just as they were getting somewhere maybe slightly a teensy bit helpful. The number was unfamiliar but he thumbed the screen to answer anyway. If it was a telemarketer, they were in for a colorful greeting.
“Hello?”
“Min-ah! It’s snowing~! Did you look outside?” a husky voice slurred over a roll of raucous laughter in the background.
“Jaejoong?”
“Changmin!”
“Are you drunk? I thought you were at a soccer game!”
“Were, Minnie, was. Now I’m at the after party!” Changmin slumped forward with a sick slosh in his stomach at the thought of Jaejoong at a wild victory party celebrating with a certain someone.
“Have fun, Jaejoong. Knock yourself out. I really don’t give--”
“Min!”
“What.” There was a long pause and Changmin could make out the strains of “Love So Sweet” being warbled in an awkward key with atrocious pronunciation. Then the connection crackled and someone else was panting into the phone.
“Hi,” said the breathless voice. “Is this Jae’s friend?”
“Yes,” Changmin said grudgingly. “And who are you?”
“Oh thank goodness! Knowing Jae I thought he had drunk dialed my boss or something.” The voice laughed nervously. “I’m Kim Junsu.”
“I see.”
"Is this Changmin."
"Unfortunately, yes."
“Sorry for, uh, bothering you. Jae wanted to call and ask you for a ride home, but his phone was dead and I offered to take him. I didn’t realize he knew the password to my phone.” Junsu laughed again. It was getting annoying. “So, just--”
“I’ll come get him," Changmin cut him off. "Where are you.” They didn’t have time to chitchat on the phone if Jaejoong was stranded somewhere and wanted to go home, needed to--
“Really, it’s ok, the weather’s bad and--”
“Another reason I shouldn’t trust your driving skills to get him home safe!”
“Excuse me?” Junsu questioned crossly before the connection went fuzzy again.
“Min-ah?” Changmin breathed a sigh of relief at the soft whine of Jaejoong’s familiar voice.
“Where are you!”
“Changminnie, are you mad?”
“Yes!” Changmin snapped.
“I’m sorry. I’ll just go home with Junsu-yah if--”
“No way. You are not going anywhere with him. He’s probably drunker than you, he looks like a total lightweight!”
“I assure you I’m not.” Junsu was back on the line and did not sound amused. Changmin gulped. “But I haven’t been drinking at all tonight, I swear, so just--”
“No!” Changmin was getting really angry now. “Jaejoong’s not going anywhere unless I’m the one driving him! Just tell him to stay put and text me the address.”
“Fine!” Junsu huffed. The line cut, Changmin too busy fuming to notice who actually hung up first.
“I’m going now,” he announced to the room, shoving his mostly untouched plate onto the table.
“But we haven’t even cut the cake yet!” Ryeowook protested.
“Who the hell was that?” Heechul asked.
“Kim Junsu.” Changmin stood to put on his coat. “Bye. Have fun in Hong Kong or whatever, Yoochun.”
“Bye…” the subdued chorus of farewells followed him out to the hall. Changmin laced on his boots and pocketed his phone. Ryeowook popped his head around the corner hesitantly.
“If you want to come by tomorrow, I’ll try to save you some cake and give it to you then.”
“It’s ok, Ryeowook.” Ryeowook nodded. Changmin reached for the door handle.
“Calm down before you try to drive anywhere. Be safe.”
“Got it.” The door clicked shut behind him and Changmin was in darkness for a moment before the automated light kicked on in the corridor. The elevator and lobby were totally empty, but it was already after ten and it was really coming down out there, snow mixed with sleet. Changmin waited impatiently for his car to defrost after thoroughly scraping the windows. Winter was fucking annoying.
The heavy, twisting winds must have downed some of the power lines, because the street lights were out for several blocks past Heechul’s neighborhood, keeping Changmin’s speed to a crawl.
The address of the karaoke place Junsu had texted him was not too far away, close to the university they had attended in fact, but the trip took twice as long as it should have and Changmin was a wreck of nerves from trying to keep his skidding to a minimum.
Not too many other citizens were idiot enough to drive with the nasty road conditions so Changmin quickly found a nearby parking place upon arrival, heaving a sigh of relief when he could finally shut his eyes against the harsh glare of his own headlights in the windshield.
Changmin ducked into the building in a flurry of sleet, shaking the wet from his ears. The lobby was empty except for a teenage girl asleep on a textbook at the front desk. Changmin tiptoed towards the hall as if a squeak from his boots might wake her over the racket spilling from the not-so-sound-proofed booths.
Room number 5. He stopped outside the frosted glass door at the end of the hall, hesitating, his hand frozen on the door knob. He withdrew it to rap loudly, hoping he’d be heard over layers of music and thumping bass and rattling tambourines. The door burst open almost immediately.
“Oh, you’re here!” Junsu poked his head out of the doorway.
“Yup.”
“You’d better come in.” Junsu grabbed his wrist and tugged him inside and Changmin cringed, suddenly inundated by a wave of wailing falsetto.
“Heav-vy-y ro-o-tay-ay-shon!” A loud silhouette clutching the microphone was dancing on top of the table, wiggling his hips in fluid waves.
“Over here,” Junsu shouted, motioning to a bench where Jaejoong lay slumped face down. Changmin tripped over someone’s feet in his rush to cross the room.
“I’m here, Jaejoong. Are you ok? Let’s go home!”
“Mmf,” Jaejoong said sleepily, sitting up with a groan. It took three tries to pull him to his feet.
“Do you need me to help carry him?” Junsu yelled over the sound of the vibrato embellished chorus as they shoved Jaejoong’s limp arms into his jacket.
“No,” Changmin said firmly, buttoning Jaejoong in up to his chin.
“Ok. Well, goodbye then, I guess. He didn’t bring any gloves or anything.”
“Of course not,” Changmin snorted, stripping off his own to slip onto Jaejoong’s cold fingers.
“Bye Jae!”
“Goodbye Hyung!” Several of the lumps on the benches lifted arms to wave goodbye as they edged to the door, Changmin stumbling a bit under Jaejoong’s dead weight.
“Goodbye!” Changmin looked up as the energetic dancer swiveled to wave at them with both arms. “Oi, Changmin ssi!” he gasped.
“Goodbye,” Changmin snapped, glaring up at Lee Donghae, the traitorous dealer.
“Oh you two know each other?” Junsu asked in surprise.
“Goodbye.” Changmin shoved Jaejoong into the hallway and slammed the door behind them. Jaejoong didn’t say anything on the way to Changmin’s car, his chin tucked into his upturned collar, but at least he straightened up enough to walk mostly on his own.
“Just so you know, I’m missing out on creamy cheesecake with a tart raspberry filling layered into a crisp dark chocolate and mocha crust right now,” Changmin broke the silence as he buckled a limp Jaejoong into the passenger seat. “I hope you’re happy.” Changmin turned on the engine and waited for the car to warm up again. The wipers were working at top speed but the windshield was still a mess.
“Min-ah, I don’t feel so good.”
“I’m not even going to ask how much you had to drink, because I really don’t care.” Jaejoong’s eyes were dull black and sullen in his pinched white face.
“Then why did you come get me.” Jaejoong, as usual, had a point.
“Just try not to vomit on anything,” Changmin sighed in defeat.
“Min-ah, I’m cold.” For a second Changmin vindictively considered turning up the heat full blast and keeping it there til Jaejoong roasted, but thought better of it when he realized he’d be roasting too. He reached over and opened the glove box, the lid bumping against bony knees. Changmin extracted the muffler from the purple bag, batting at it irritably when the plastic clung to his knuckles with static.
“Here.” He turned to loop the soft ends of the scarf around Jaejoong’s delicate neck, tucking it into his coat. “And you better start wearing this regularly or you’re gonna get sick.” Jaejoong stared back with glazed eyes, mouth slightly open. Changmin looked away quickly and fiddled with the rearview mirror. “If you don’t like it, you can, you know, give it to Yunho or whatever.”
“Dumbass,” Jaejoong sniffled into the soft scarf, voice slightly muffled. “I already told you Heechul probably bought him one.”
“And there’s not room for two scarves in anyone’s closet?” Changmin scoffed lightly, trying to cover the sudden tremor in his voice as he pulled into the slushy street.
“No.” Jaejoong shook his head. “Not for two red ones, anyway.” He rolled onto his side and shut his eyes for the rest of the ride, his head lolling against the window, but Changmin’s heart gave a slight thrill when a handful of cold fingers curled into his before they’d made it another block.
Part 17, Part 19