discordia.
"i think life is appalling."
she gazes up at him through hooded eyes. the alcohol is coursing through her veins, none too rapidly, but she already feels lightheaded. they're pressed up against each other in the miniscule broom closet, feet meeting feet and a six-pack between them. "took you long enough to realize, hmm?" her words slur into a barely audible haze but he isn't one of her longest companions for nothing; he detects every word with ease. "one would think that you, of all people, would come to notice that little fact sooner."
automatically, he cringes, running his thumb over the purple-flecked bruise on his knee (the result of ducking behind the vegetable aisle a tad too quickly as he spots yoochun, of all people, entering the grocery store he frequents four days ago) with disgust.
"at least now someone else knows how it is to be alone." her tone lightens, reeking of faux delight that make his toes curl. incensed, he refutes, "i have changmin, you know." she regards him with a look akin to pity as she leans into his side. the stench of cement and dust suffocate them but the tiny closet, the barely-there space, is nothing if not theirs. "your heart's made up of five pieces. you know it, i know it, everyone knows it. only two parts...it's not going to work. not as well, at least."
her lips abruptly form an 'o' as she reaches a conclusion. waltzing through days and months and years, she tends to forget. but there's something that she could never. "i'm wrong, aren't i?" the air suddenly feels stifling. he takes off his cap, places it in his lap, retrieves it and puts it back on again. "yeah. you're wrong."
because in reality, there are six pieces - the sixth is subjective and its label often changes, fluctuating between kwon boa and lee jiyeon.
probably.
in all honesty, he's not even sure anymore. sometimes it's like they're all crushed by separate fists (he uncannily thinks that everything stemmed from him nonetheless) into a fine powder that sieves through the gaps between his trembling fingers, sprinkling the earth in gentle gusts before disappearing with the wind, as if they have never existed.
here, have a small part of my heart. maybe you can find some use for it.
their stint was relatively short, to say the least. mutual attraction ignited something that led to another and before they knew what was happening, they were the embodiment of breathy, stolen kisses in vacated bathroom stalls; intertwined fingers underneath soiled cafeteria tables; and drunken karaoke nights with his future band mates. it was wrong, horrifyingly sordid - they knew all of that - but they chose to not let it matter. they decided to live in the moment, to bask in the glory, to taste love on the tips of their tongues simply because back then, it was actually possible.
"but i have practice at 7 am tomorrow," he complains, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "and manager-hyung will literally rip my throat out if he sees you here." she just smiles coaxingly in response, indents forming in her cheeks (how is it humanely possible to look so vibrant at 2.43 am?) as she tugs on his pinky as a form of encouragement. "come on. learn to live a little!"
despite his vehement protests, despite jaejoong telling him to just shut the fuck up so i can sleep in peace with a perpetual scowl, he finds himself scarfing down spicy rice cakes in hongdae twenty minutes later, shivering in the bitter cold. "see? isn't this fun?" she remarks, eyebrows raised in a teasing fashion. her eyes twinkle merrily underneath brown bangs, somewhat watery due to the sting of the winter air, goading him with their oddly enthralling sheen.
"right. 'fun' my ass." with a scoff, she swats at him with her glove and they both giggle, propped up heavily against the plastic table. their breaths escape as puffs of white smoke, illuminated against the inky blue night. the weather feels as if it's below 0 degrees, his dancing will end up disjointed tomorrow because he's so goddamn sleepy and the untimely meal is churning in his stomach.
but he's happy. even if they broke up just a month - and two weeks and sixteen days and nine hours - after the incident. they were young, reckless, carefree -
but those twelve months meant something.
if they didn't, their photo (only the wrinkled half with him on it) wouldn't lay ripped-up into specifically twenty-nine pieces in the bottom drawer next to her bed. if they didn't, he wouldn't delete her number, only to beg sungmi for it the next day, determination quaking. if they didn't, she wouldn't be sitting in front of the tv, knees drawn up to her chest, as she watches his comeback stage through glassy eyes. if they didn't, he wouldn't be asking his manager: "oh, the grace isn't included in this concert? again?"
if they didn't, the trainees wouldn't be whispering about jung yunho and lee jiyeon, the ones who should've happened but didn't.
"we broke up."
she stops mid-spin, left foot landing on the polished floor with a distinct thud. his voice, devoid of any emotion, reverberates in her ears; his eyes, laden with too much emotion, seem to look right through her. "what?" responds boa blankly, trying to piece together the three words into a coherent stream. her brow, lined with an abundance of sweat, furrow as she, evidently perplexed, attempts to digest the gist of his statement. she fails, however, and glances at him for guidance.
"jiyeon and i. we broke up," he repeats, his tone rising a notch (bordering on hysterical, almost; her heart undergoes a nanosecond of static) as he takes a tentative step foward. "we broke up, boa. we broke up." yunho towers over her effortlessly, his colossal figure casting a shadow over her tiny stature, but she has never seen him so shattered.
"we broke u - "
her clammy fingers unfurl and make contact with his quivering chin. she tightens her grip on it and murmurs heatedly, "i know that. you don't have to repeat it so many fucking times. stop it." swallowing, boa moves her hands to the sides of his face; cradling it and holding him together because she knows that this is something she can't tape back together with mere words. "what do you want me to say, hmm? what the hell do you want me to tell you?"
"tell me that it wasn't a waste of time. tell me that it wasn't stupid. tell me that despite all this, she was worth it." each syllable that yunho emits sound awful; too frantic, too irrepressible, too real. if this is any other situation, she would've laughed (because tvxq's future leader doesn't get heartbroken; he gives others brutal advice and doesn't bother to mull over it a second time) but it is what it is. hence, she couldn't.
so she pulls him to her chest, although he's nearly a foot taller, and permits him to sob dry tears into her tank top, and allows him to kiss her senseless fifteen minutes later once he's done with his rants of how is being an idol supposed to be a good thing if it hurts so fucking bad and i just want jiyeon dammit i'm not asking for the moon at my feet not because she loves him and he loves her, but because that's what she is to him.
completely and utterly indefinable.
"how are you, yunho?" her smile is still the same, albeit stiffer and more forced, probably. yunho doesn't really care; he has lost track (it has always been a lot easier to trick himself into believing things he doesn't than to compel others to take that bait) of the years although the wound remains raw and red, throbbing and pulsating.
"fine. and i assume you are, too." she emanates a little chuckle, more sardonic than anything, and successfully claws at his heart despite having had no access to it for many, many years. "of course. the sm dungeons treat me very nicely indeed," jokes jiyeon - a rather vile attempt at humor, he notes - but the sullen dip of her mouth gives everything away. he feels like laughing in her face, he feels like shaking her by the shoulders because you said we couldn't be together because we were gonna make it but right now it's only me but he doesn't.
she eyeballs him distastefully and harrumphs, "it's not like i don't know what you're thinking, jung yunho. you're not supposed to make fun of my fame, or lack thereof."
a bark of laughter finally escapes him, and yunho suddenly feels lighter (is this what moving on feels like? after so many painstaking years?) even if things between them are far, definitely far from resolved. "whatever." he blows a strand of hair off his forehead impatiently. "we're all pawns in this sick game called show business. when i'm no longer relevant, when there's no more red to color the crowd of fans, i'll be joining you in the dungeons, too." his forehead hardens, not in defiance, but because he knows it's going to come; probably sooner than later.
"as sick a game as it is, it's what we gave it up for, isn't it?" suddenly, jiyeon's voice sounds more vulnerable than he has ever heard it, more familiar than he remembers, more like her than what is confined to his memory. he doesn't need to ask what it is because twenty years can pass by fleetingly and they will still know.
tears prick the insides of her eyelids and it becomes a battle; between her pride and her heart because one is willing to surrender itself despite the aversion of the other. "you just cannot" - here, her voice catches on an invisible hook - "do this to me. not now, not ever, not even then."
"back then, we were everything." this is one card yunho doesn't wish to play (we could've had just a little bit, we could've at least tried just a little more, we could've existed for just a little while longer) but she's one of the few people who has seen him at his weakest and he understands that when the cause is her, she is loathe to mind. this time, though, this one time, she does; at this age, in this field, they're supposed to outgrow that crazy little thing called love.
but neither of them does, which results in accusing tears and piercing profanities and broken wails of why is falling out of love so fucking hard? just six years too late.
"you know?" pipes up yunho, too drunk to hold the tears in. "life does suck." she snorts in disdain before taking pity on him. burying her face between his shoulder blades, boa mumbles: "i know. cheers."
they clink their beer cans together.
-
a/n: dedicated to the lovely aoza because i love her and she loves yunho/lina. ♥