Oneshot - Pictures of You and Me
Title: Pictures of You and Me
Pairing: Yoochun/Jaejoong
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance; Angst
777 words.
A/N: First draft of this was for mikiraa, and then I completely re-wrote it, hope you don't mind. :3 Also for rina_ah because she's a dear for making me Paris icons. :) ♥!
These are scattered pictures of a smile we left behind, when the sky was a clear blue, and our hands were intertwined, weaved together like a flower wreath; white and yellow daisies tied in simple knots, each with the whispered promise of never letting go. Our eyes reflected a glow that we no longer share, a color we once knew but no longer see, faded from our eyes and died away. Our song remains hidden behind dusty books and lonely corners, the melody tinkling in the dark.
I still remember the smell of you, all red wine and cigarettes mixed with the sweet smell of your shampoo, and the way you leaned against the balcony, blowing gray smoke into the open air. Your silhouette still keeps me company on some starless nights, when I'm thinking of you and have no star to wish upon. I imagine the light wind breeze as your kiss against my cheek, and it's like you never left.
I remember the sound of your footsteps, soft and careful, pacing around the kitchen in early mornings when you didn't want to wake me up just yet. I hear them occasionally, but when I open the door to check if it's really you, you're gone. I'm left with only traces of your warmth, and a reminder to eat breakfast, a yellow post-it note that you left on the fridge and I never took it off.
You used to hum love songs all day and would beg me to play them on the piano for you to sing along to. Your voice was the most beautiful that I've ever heard, and still is. An angel's voice, I used to say to you, and you'd smile but shake your head.
'Not an angel,' you'd say.
I'd lean in and whisper into your ear, 'No, but you're my angel.'
I wish you could still sing to me. I wish I could see you again. I wish for a lot of things. That's all I can do, though. Wish.
~
It was cold, the days were drawing nearer to winter, and you came home in a thin long-sleeved shirt, hands shaking and carrying a package. I laughed at you for not wearing a jacket, like I told you to, and you tried to smile. Tried to, because it came out broken with all the wrong angles. Tried to, but I could see tears in your eyes. You gripped onto the package and when I asked, you told me it was nothing, and rushed to your bedroom, but I caught you before you could run.
Terminal cancer, the papers stated in heavy bolded letters. I didn't read anything after that.
'I'm not scared,' you said,
I clung onto you, pulling at your shirt, shaking and crying, torn apart, right in the middle. And my heart, it was screaming with pain, and it hurt too much.
'I don't- I'm not leaving, Yoochunah,' you reassured me, patting my back gently. 'I'm not going anywhere.'
You refused to go to the hospital, to have needles stuck into your arms and a heart rate monitor watching your every beat till you reach your last.
'No use going there when you're going to die anyway,' you reasoned, face growing paler by the day.
'Don't say that,' I murmured, tears pooling in my eyes again. 'Don't.'
'Okay, okay,' you smiled and wiped my tears away. 'Crybaby.'
'Not my fault,' I dug my head into your chest.
'I know,' you tilt my head up and kiss me on the forehead. 'It's mine.'
~
You suggested a vacation, somewhere far away, with a foreign language, old buildings; maybe with a river or a view with an ocean, and beauty every which way you turn.
'Where do you want to go?' I asked.
Your eyes flicker across the ceiling, as if the answer is etched across. You hum a single note, pondering.
'Paris,' you said finally.
We arrived past midnight, the skies painted the darkest night blue, scattered jewels across the velvet, and we hear the strumming of an acoustic guitar dancing around us in the air. You lean your head on my shoulder and sigh. 'Perfect,' you said, and kissed me on the neck. 'This is perfect.'
~
The last picture of you was taken while standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, with your arms outstretched, smiling and free, no evidence of your faltering heart or your failing body. No, you look perfectly healthy, and that's how I'll remember you forever. Happy, beautiful, and loved.
These are scattered pictures of a smile we left behind.
They spell out my simple confessions.
I miss you.
I love you.
---
Masterlist: here
Pairing: Yoochun/Jaejoong
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance; Angst
777 words.
A/N: First draft of this was for mikiraa, and then I completely re-wrote it, hope you don't mind. :3 Also for rina_ah because she's a dear for making me Paris icons. :) ♥!
These are scattered pictures of a smile we left behind, when the sky was a clear blue, and our hands were intertwined, weaved together like a flower wreath; white and yellow daisies tied in simple knots, each with the whispered promise of never letting go. Our eyes reflected a glow that we no longer share, a color we once knew but no longer see, faded from our eyes and died away. Our song remains hidden behind dusty books and lonely corners, the melody tinkling in the dark.
I still remember the smell of you, all red wine and cigarettes mixed with the sweet smell of your shampoo, and the way you leaned against the balcony, blowing gray smoke into the open air. Your silhouette still keeps me company on some starless nights, when I'm thinking of you and have no star to wish upon. I imagine the light wind breeze as your kiss against my cheek, and it's like you never left.
I remember the sound of your footsteps, soft and careful, pacing around the kitchen in early mornings when you didn't want to wake me up just yet. I hear them occasionally, but when I open the door to check if it's really you, you're gone. I'm left with only traces of your warmth, and a reminder to eat breakfast, a yellow post-it note that you left on the fridge and I never took it off.
You used to hum love songs all day and would beg me to play them on the piano for you to sing along to. Your voice was the most beautiful that I've ever heard, and still is. An angel's voice, I used to say to you, and you'd smile but shake your head.
'Not an angel,' you'd say.
I'd lean in and whisper into your ear, 'No, but you're my angel.'
I wish you could still sing to me. I wish I could see you again. I wish for a lot of things. That's all I can do, though. Wish.
~
It was cold, the days were drawing nearer to winter, and you came home in a thin long-sleeved shirt, hands shaking and carrying a package. I laughed at you for not wearing a jacket, like I told you to, and you tried to smile. Tried to, because it came out broken with all the wrong angles. Tried to, but I could see tears in your eyes. You gripped onto the package and when I asked, you told me it was nothing, and rushed to your bedroom, but I caught you before you could run.
Terminal cancer, the papers stated in heavy bolded letters. I didn't read anything after that.
'I'm not scared,' you said,
I clung onto you, pulling at your shirt, shaking and crying, torn apart, right in the middle. And my heart, it was screaming with pain, and it hurt too much.
'I don't- I'm not leaving, Yoochunah,' you reassured me, patting my back gently. 'I'm not going anywhere.'
You refused to go to the hospital, to have needles stuck into your arms and a heart rate monitor watching your every beat till you reach your last.
'No use going there when you're going to die anyway,' you reasoned, face growing paler by the day.
'Don't say that,' I murmured, tears pooling in my eyes again. 'Don't.'
'Okay, okay,' you smiled and wiped my tears away. 'Crybaby.'
'Not my fault,' I dug my head into your chest.
'I know,' you tilt my head up and kiss me on the forehead. 'It's mine.'
~
You suggested a vacation, somewhere far away, with a foreign language, old buildings; maybe with a river or a view with an ocean, and beauty every which way you turn.
'Where do you want to go?' I asked.
Your eyes flicker across the ceiling, as if the answer is etched across. You hum a single note, pondering.
'Paris,' you said finally.
We arrived past midnight, the skies painted the darkest night blue, scattered jewels across the velvet, and we hear the strumming of an acoustic guitar dancing around us in the air. You lean your head on my shoulder and sigh. 'Perfect,' you said, and kissed me on the neck. 'This is perfect.'
~
The last picture of you was taken while standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, with your arms outstretched, smiling and free, no evidence of your faltering heart or your failing body. No, you look perfectly healthy, and that's how I'll remember you forever. Happy, beautiful, and loved.
These are scattered pictures of a smile we left behind.
They spell out my simple confessions.
I miss you.
I love you.
---
Masterlist: here