Take Me to the Riot - Oneshot (Jaesu)
Title: Take Me to the Riot
Author: skylilies
Pairing: Jaesu
Fandom: DBSK
Word Count: 589
Genre: au
Rating: pg-13
Warning: cussing, implied violence
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, just my interpretations of them.
Teaser: In which there is graffiti and bruised knuckles, and Junsu refuses to talk.
Notes: this is for the lovely itsplashes for her bday (: LOVE YOU AND YOUR OBSESSION WITH JUNSU
He chucks the spray cans into the dumpster outside of Denny’s, peels the gloves off and shoves them into his back pocket. There’s a low whistle across the way, from the car garage that never seems to be open. The side door is open.
“Junsu,” The boy silhouetted against the light gestures for him to come over. He’s so skinny that his jeans catch on his hipbones, sloping low enough to show more boxer than denim underneath his shirt. There’s a cigarette burn on the sleeve of his white hoodie, and as he catches Junsu’s wrist Junsu can see the bruises on his knuckles. “Clean.” He smiles. “No graffiti tonight?”
When Junsu went back over the summer to visit his brother in the city, where their father and the mistress had shacked up and where Junho has a job - and a handful of split loyalties, but they never talk about that - Junho told him if he gets into any more fights he’s going to end up with a lot more than fading bruises. When Jaejoong smiles he has a chip in his tooth.
Junsu shakes his head. “U-huh,” Jaejoong replies, “I can keep a secret.” A pause. “There’s a fight up on fourteenth that’s going to get more than a little nasty.”
Junsu chokes back a laugh. His throat feels dusty from disuse.
“Mm,” Jaejoong hums. The sound drags out between a loose grin. “Let’s get out of here for a second.”
In the alleyway he lights up a cigarette. Fourth one from the pack, the edges of the box roughed up like he’s been carrying this one around for a while. He stopped offering them to Junsu a long time ago, back when he was still fresh and his voice used to get him beat up on the field and at street corners, when people would whisper ‘don’t talk about it,’ and then step on his fingers as they walked away.
“Hey, faerie!” Someone catcalls from across the street. “I’ve got something here that’ll keep you on your knees.” Jaejoong stubs out the cigarette against the wall and reaches a hand into his jacket pocket. There’s a moment - a flicker of something across his face and a glint of silver at his side - until the drunk goes, “aw, the fuck are you kidding,” and ambles on to harass the street walkers. Jaejoong’s hand relaxes.
“You know,” he picks up where he left off, the same conversational tone as before. “It really fucking weirds me out when you don’t talk.”
Junsu raises his eyebrows.
“Aw, fuck,” Jaejoong kicks the cigarette butt toward him. “I’ll talk for you.”
“You were out playing artist man with the concrete, back out on seventh street where the hookers won’t go - except for the one that told me she saw you there - and your mother is wondering why you haven’t been home in four days like a good boy - that is, you didn’t tell her you’ve been staying at my place.”
Junsu coughs, pointedly. “Oh,” Jaejoong says, and takes a step closer. “No words,“ he presses the cigarette pack into Junsu’s hand. Junsu blinks at him. “Means no assumptions.”
There’s a second of still air between them and Junsu relaxes into the silence. Jaejoong’s stare darts from his eyes to his lips and back again, and then he slaps Junsu on the back pocket. “I want the cigarettes back,” he says. “Don’t pawn them off like you did last time!”
As he leaves, Junsu starts to laugh.
Author: skylilies
Pairing: Jaesu
Fandom: DBSK
Word Count: 589
Genre: au
Rating: pg-13
Warning: cussing, implied violence
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, just my interpretations of them.
Teaser: In which there is graffiti and bruised knuckles, and Junsu refuses to talk.
Notes: this is for the lovely itsplashes for her bday (: LOVE YOU AND YOUR OBSESSION WITH JUNSU
He chucks the spray cans into the dumpster outside of Denny’s, peels the gloves off and shoves them into his back pocket. There’s a low whistle across the way, from the car garage that never seems to be open. The side door is open.
“Junsu,” The boy silhouetted against the light gestures for him to come over. He’s so skinny that his jeans catch on his hipbones, sloping low enough to show more boxer than denim underneath his shirt. There’s a cigarette burn on the sleeve of his white hoodie, and as he catches Junsu’s wrist Junsu can see the bruises on his knuckles. “Clean.” He smiles. “No graffiti tonight?”
When Junsu went back over the summer to visit his brother in the city, where their father and the mistress had shacked up and where Junho has a job - and a handful of split loyalties, but they never talk about that - Junho told him if he gets into any more fights he’s going to end up with a lot more than fading bruises. When Jaejoong smiles he has a chip in his tooth.
Junsu shakes his head. “U-huh,” Jaejoong replies, “I can keep a secret.” A pause. “There’s a fight up on fourteenth that’s going to get more than a little nasty.”
Junsu chokes back a laugh. His throat feels dusty from disuse.
“Mm,” Jaejoong hums. The sound drags out between a loose grin. “Let’s get out of here for a second.”
In the alleyway he lights up a cigarette. Fourth one from the pack, the edges of the box roughed up like he’s been carrying this one around for a while. He stopped offering them to Junsu a long time ago, back when he was still fresh and his voice used to get him beat up on the field and at street corners, when people would whisper ‘don’t talk about it,’ and then step on his fingers as they walked away.
“Hey, faerie!” Someone catcalls from across the street. “I’ve got something here that’ll keep you on your knees.” Jaejoong stubs out the cigarette against the wall and reaches a hand into his jacket pocket. There’s a moment - a flicker of something across his face and a glint of silver at his side - until the drunk goes, “aw, the fuck are you kidding,” and ambles on to harass the street walkers. Jaejoong’s hand relaxes.
“You know,” he picks up where he left off, the same conversational tone as before. “It really fucking weirds me out when you don’t talk.”
Junsu raises his eyebrows.
“Aw, fuck,” Jaejoong kicks the cigarette butt toward him. “I’ll talk for you.”
“You were out playing artist man with the concrete, back out on seventh street where the hookers won’t go - except for the one that told me she saw you there - and your mother is wondering why you haven’t been home in four days like a good boy - that is, you didn’t tell her you’ve been staying at my place.”
Junsu coughs, pointedly. “Oh,” Jaejoong says, and takes a step closer. “No words,“ he presses the cigarette pack into Junsu’s hand. Junsu blinks at him. “Means no assumptions.”
There’s a second of still air between them and Junsu relaxes into the silence. Jaejoong’s stare darts from his eyes to his lips and back again, and then he slaps Junsu on the back pocket. “I want the cigarettes back,” he says. “Don’t pawn them off like you did last time!”
As he leaves, Junsu starts to laugh.