[Fic] Hanging on that shadow of your reality - Part 3 (complete)
Title: Hanging on that shadow of your reality
Pairing(s): Jaechunmin
Length: 3/3
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: angst, confusingness?
Genre: AU, drama, angst, angst, angst
Summary: When dreams are more attractive than reality, who can blame him for wanting to lose himself within them forever?
Part 1 | Part 2 |
A/N: um. don't know where this came from suddenly. but its finished O_O my first finished OMGAH~~ TT (sorry its short :P)
*************
Each new revelation and Changmin only felt more and more wrong. Nausea bubbled uncomfortably in his stomach, along with a tightness in his chest that made him feel sick, like bile was stuck suffocatingly in his throat.
He couldn't understand how any of this was possible, thought he must be dreaming even as the doctor related in a calm professional manner everything they knew about the man Park Yoochun. Someone who'd been under their charge in this hospital for more than a few years.
The man spoke as if it were a simple common cold, something normal and easily explained by medical practices as he described how Yoochun seemed to be in a unique sort of coma. It was Jaejoong responded, who pried and asked further, seeming able to comprehend what the doctor was telling them where it all sounded like nonsense, a different language, to Changmin.
Jaejoong wanted to know more details, wanted to know the how, to have everything proved. The doctor recounted as much as he could remember, his tone changing from a monotonous flat medical recitation into something more human, inflecting with emotion as he caught onto Jaejoong's avid interest. Seeming to inflate a little at the undivided attention, he told them how the doctors had tried to hold Yoochun back at first -shocked and concerned about the comatose man inexplicably and suddenly rising from his bed, seeming suddenly perfectly fine.
Apparently, they hadn’t even realized he’d risen for the first week or so, already almost positive he’d never wake again. The doctor himself proudly stated his determination to monitor and watch over the patient, to find out what was wrong with him and how to fix it. He'd made Yoochun his personal responsibility, had spent endless hours, days, months researching and testing.
His shoulders sagged a little as he seemed lost momentarily in memories, and Jaejoong gently drew him back to the present, wanting to know everything the man could offer. He told them that even though they eventually permitted Yoochun to leave the hospital, merely a few hours at a time at first, they still had never officially discharged him even until now.
It was because somehow he'd always found his way back to his hospital room, even after months had passed and he could leave for nearly a day at a time in perfect health both physically and mentally. He would always return to his room, seeming much like any other recovering inpatient in the hospital, except for when he lay down to sleep he'd just as simply slip directly back into his previous comatose state.
In recent months, however, his condition had started to become something of a concern again, when he’d be brought back to the hospital not on his own power, but after calls from various passersby, shops, or random people whom had found him unconscious in various locations around the vicinity of the hospital. Even so, everytime they checked his state it was always the same, no changes for better or worse, yet beneath it all, there was always the unexplainable way in which he rose and went about his life as if he were perfectly healthy and fine.
Until one day during a rudimentary counseling session, he told them he was Kim Jaejoong, a good for nothing loser, and not one musician and songwriter Park Yoochun. This had baffled the doctor, as well as his superiors as he'd informed them of the recent developments of his charge.
As accustomed as he'd become to his uniquely ill patient, studying him constantly over the past years, he'd slowly come to realize their knowledge and theories on split personalities were all underdeveloped and understudied. Yoochun was living proof of something else, an entirely new level, the lapses into coma infuriating in that it was near impossible to explain from a scientific standpoint based on his vital information.
He'd spent more time talking to the man when he was conscious, asking him about himself and recording everything to document the appearances of his other personality. The man had told him any and everything, how he had met a sweet young man in the park, how one thing lead to another and that he'd fallen head over heels in love.
Tape after tape of Yoochun's husky voice retelling the various dates and episodes, all charming laughter and pleasant easy chatter. Despite everything, he continued this albeit broken life quite smoothly. That was until now. Where after a week of failing to wake and walk his usual path, he'd finally opened his eyes with his own power, at long last rousing as his true self.
And years of constantly stable medial statuses were shown for naught, and the doctor who’d declared him comatose for life, certain he could only rouse in this persona of Jaejoong, had had to eat his words. Just as inexplicably as it had started, it ended. The man fully healed and cleared for discharge.
Throughout the man's story, Changmin remained unmoving, staring unseeingly at the floor between his shoes. Hardly blinking, hardly breathing, no visible reaction to any of the incredible, no, unbelievable story. No response to the calm validation of the reality of their situation, no feelings of relief at an explanation for it. Because it still didn't make sense. He almost didn't want it to make sense. Not when it now seemed as if his lover was somehow split between two people.
Suddenly a memory sparked in his mind and Changmin’s stomach clenched as he remembered one foggy day of two years ago that had somehow faded into forgetfulness. How could he have forgotten the time that he’d woke one morning to a lover that wouldn’t wake up? How his lover had inexplicably and horrifyingly remained unresponsive and unconscious as he tried all he could to rouse him.
That day had been a blur of panic and confusion for him. A trip to the nearest hospital where the man was taken away from him, not rushed quickly into the emergency room, but calmly and without concern taken to a dark room that seemed to have almost been waiting for him. He remembered waiting by his side, half delirious with worry, dizzy and dazed after panic and tears made short work of his body, leaving him weak and empty.
It hadn’t been until hours later that the man suddenly woke up, looked around himself contentedly and smiled cheerily up at him. Acting as if nothing had ever happened, and that waking up in a hospital bed was the most normal thing in the world. Changmin had slowly gotten over his shock as the older man not only assured, but proved to him that he was fine, and they had left the sterile whiteness of the building to spend the evening walking on a sun warmed beach, splashing in cool deep blue salt water as the setting sun lit their skin burning yellows and gold.
To this day he could still remember the exact feel of lips fitting perfectly against his own as strong careful hands pressed him into soft warm sand. That had also been the day he’d entirely and irreversibly given himself fully to the other.
He hadn't needed anything more than just them. Every day together was simple and pure happiness. Every easy comfortable laugh and sweet loving kiss.
It was easy enough to forget about the odd hospital incident so long ago. But now, finding himself once more in the room he'd thought he'd forgotten, but could now remember each detail of it so painfully, memorized and burned into his memory from the long hours he'd spent there anxious and on the brink of breaking down as his lover lay as still as if dead. Just as he was once again now.
And he didn't even realize his legs had given out until the arms looping around his waist and guiding him firmly to sit beside the bed kept him from falling. Looking down at the apparently sleeping form, he felt his throat close up as the hands on him rubbed comforting circles on his back, carded soothingly through his hair. He could hardly see the rise and fall of his chest with each shallow breath, and he forced away the fleeting thought that he was delirious and imagining the phantom touch of the person now unconscious before him.
Because he knew the touch was real. Was the real Jaejoong. And he suddenly found he couldn't look at the figure on the bed any more.
Turning abruptly, he was instantly met with a hard chest, Jaejoong gathering him wordlessly into his arms and holding him against his heart. Cradled in the comforting embrace, the understanding and care washed over him, and Changmin closed his eyes as he buried his face in the other's shirt.
It felt like ages later that he finally found himself calming to the soft steady beating of Jaejoong's heart, laying against the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and he felt so small and enveloped by something so much bigger and stronger than himself. Lips pressed against his hair, and he took a deep breath.
Neither of them spoke a word the whole time, but Jaejoong still effortlessly knew exactly what he'd needed. Even if he no longer looked like the same person.
Changmin forced himself to pull away, to turn sad eyes back to the man on the bed. He took his time, eyes slowly tracing the lines and curves of his face. The handsome line of his nose, the swell of full kissable lips. He couldn't help but remember how it felt to trace them with his own lips, and he was suddenly fighting the urge to reach out and touch him.
It broke his heart. The way his heart ached to take him in his arms, rock him until he woke and looked back at him with that familiar sparkle in deep brown eyes. It broke his heart because he was frozen in place, couldn't even lift a single finger, mind shutting down as it told him that the man before him wasn't his hyung, but a stranger.
His fingers curled into fists, the only outward sign of his internal battle, and he stared at the sleeping man as if he blinked he may disappear. Nothing was certain anymore since the impossible had happened, and he felt so lost and more than that, just scared.
Who was this man? And how had Jaejoong lived through him? Why?
He didn't understand, knew that even the doctors couldn't explain if they knew the full truth, if they knew who the dark haired man beside him was, but he still couldn't deny or refuse the feelings that swelled within him as he gazed upon the face he knew so well. The one he loved more than anything.
If only he would just open his eyes and tell him it was alright. That this had all been a dream before he took him in his arms again. Except it couldn't be a dream. He was startled from his thoughts as somebody shifted beside him.
"Park Yoochun."
A soft still nearly unfamiliar voice, just above a whisper, and he tore his eyes away at last to see Jaejoong bending over the bed. His eyes were lit with a steady soft gaze, something full of wonder, his tone one nearly hesitantly reverent. He turned to meet Changmin's expectant stare.
"His name is Yoochun." He said softly, as if trying not to wake him, but the look in his eyes spoke of something else, as if that name was something incredibly important, a look so painfully sad yet tearfully happy at the same time.
Changmin shook his head slightly. The name didn't mean anything to him, and he still wished deep down that he'd never heard it. It was almost a physical blow, jarring, as it clearly and strictly solidified the reality that this was not the man he thought or wanted it to be.
Not the one he'd spent days and years of contentment with as they built a life together, not the man he'd poured his deepest secrets to, nor danced with together in the rain after his mother died until he was no longer able to tell if the drops on his cheeks were those of rain or tears. He still remembered how that kiss had tasted like home.
Jaejoong watched his reaction as he shook his head again more firmly and was reaching for him the next moment, arms twining about his shoulders as if they belonged there, the gentle kiss placed on his cheek so warm and comforting.
"No, Min." He murmured against his skin. "No, you're wrong." He pulled back to search his eyes earnestly, trying to convince him of something his mind now screamed was a lie. "We know him."
He released him to turn and look at Yoochun again, and the sad longing on his face seemed so foreign to Changmin even as it made his heart beat slower. Because it mirrored the exact way he felt as well, and this made him almost angry.
"Who are you to tell me something like that now?" His voice wavered dangerously, and the dark haired man faced him again with those big sorrowful eyes. Eyes still so full of an understanding he couldn't quite comprehend. Yet he looked so sorry and that was what made the anger burn all the fiercer. It made him want to lash out, to blame. "I'm not even sure who you are anymore."
It wasn't really true, but it wasn't a lie either. He regretted the words as hurt crossed Jaejoong's face, but he couldn't deny the confusion of having both of them before him was causing the ache in his chest to be nearly unbearable.
"Changmin-ah." His brows crinkled as he frowned, hands reaching to catch his own, his tone pleading. "It's me...just like it always has been. Just... all of me." He shook his head. His eyes were suddenly shimmering, glossing over as tears gathered threateningly. "Finally all of me. But now...none of him."
His fingers tightened around Changmin's and he barely repressed the way he wanted to squeeze back in response. He was blaming the pain in his chest as the thing that kept him from reaching out to smooth the lines twisting his face in grief or kiss away the wetness clinging to his eyelashes. Because he couldn't help it. The face before him was still so new, unknown, and he bit his lip to try and keep back the sting behind his own eyes.
Jaejoong took a deep breath and blinked rapidly to clear his eyes. "Please trust me, love. Everything will be okay. We'll figure this out together, okay?"
Changmin couldn't do more than merely nod his head weakly. He wanted to rely on the confidence and trust in that voice, wanted to believe the words, and more than anything he just wanted everything back to the way it was. Him and Jaejoong... He would have already broken, fallen apart if it weren't for the fact that he'd seen the exact same desire in the other's eyes. Felt it through every caress and word. But it still didn't make this any easier or clearer.
Jaejoong didn't release his hand even as he once more turned to Yoochun. The look on his face, the light that instantly sparked in his eyes, something soft and happy. And his voice held a clear note of wonderment that Changmin tried desperately to understand.
"This is Yoochun." He repeated quietly as if reconfirming, eyes nearly glowing with something so gentle and loving and Changmin found himself looking as well, a familiar wave of those exact emotions crashing over him once again. He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat.
He tried to match the name to the face, trying not to think of the sound of his voice, the brightness of his smile, not when he couldn't stop the last thing he'd heard from repeating over and over in his head. Him telling him he was someone else, him indicating a stranger to be who he was supposed to be.
He let out a shaky breath, watching almost transfixed as Jaejoong hesitantly, ever so slowly reached out his hand towards Yoochun's sleeping face.
Pale fingers brushed carefully across one cheek, drawing back and curling momentarily into a loose fist. A pause. A single breath. And then he was tracing the curve of his cheek, lifting again to brush bangs across his forehead, a thumb drawing carefully along his jaw.
The movement of his hand was captivating in the slow deliberate caresses. The touch of a heartfelt lover, yet imbued with all the tentative heart stopping thrill of a first. Not like the age-worn easy comfortableness of Changmin's hand. And it made him remember only too well their first moments, the fluttering of his heart, the blood pounding in his veins.
And he couldn't stop the gasp that left his mouth as Yoochun's eyelids fluttered. Surprised at the sudden reaction as well, Jaejoong drew his hand back with a start. But Yoochun's hand reached out quickly to catch his wrist just before he could move away. So close beside him, Changmin could clearly hear the way his breath caught in his throat.
They both stared down at Yoochun, who ever so slowly blinked hazy brown eyes open. Changmin's heart nearly stopped as after he blinked a second time, the heavy gaze fell undeniably upon himself.
Breathe in. Breathe out. And Yoochun held him captive with nothing more than his eyes. Breathe in sharply. Because Yoochun smiled.
Changmin was reaching out without even realizing it, fingers curling reflexively in fabric, his head coming to land heavily upon a familiar shoulder. And his eyes burned. He was crying, but he didn't care. All the anxiety, the worries, doubts, fears. The loss. Everything was put right, fit back into a perfectly constructed puzzle. Each small piece custom made to rest together with the next. And everything was really going to be okay. Yoochun's expression had told him so.
He could hear soft voices above him, comforting and caring, warm hands running along his back while another caressed his hair. And nothing felt more right than this. His heart ached until it felt ready to burst, hot tears wetting Yoochun's shirt as he threw himself into the feelings without abandon. Because they were both there to catch him, to hold him up and set up upright once again.
Hours later and Yoochun still hadn't let go of Jaejoong's hand. Their fingers were now entwined comfortably, Yoochun's thumb running softly across Jaejoong knuckle. Changmin remained curled into Yoochun's side even long after his back ached and legs cramped. He didn't want to move. Didn't want to lose the feel of warmth on all sides, especially not after Jaejoong had slipped his free hand under the hem of his shirt to press warm fingers into his back. Comforting and intimate. Perfect.
It was Yoochun who decided to take the audio tapes home, the ones that narrated their memories together. Something that should only be theirs, precious and sad. A reminder of the time they'd spent apart, not yet a true whole, even though at the same time already all together.
Nothing was more like home than huddling together on the rickety piano bench, laughter and giggles cascading as hands slid only too accurately and purposefully along sensitive skin, all tickles and jabbing elbows until Yoochun's fingers were seduced by the ivory and black keys spread before them.
Nothing was more romantic than Jaejoong's sweet clear tones wrapping about their own like a long awaited embrace, arms that lifted them into soaring breathtaking melodies. A sound they'd once thought beautiful and complete before only now finding truth and completion in the intricate weaving and crescendo of three.
Nothing was more beautiful than eyes glittering softly in glowing yellow candle light, in skin and souls laid bare, in the way human arms could encompass and hold so much more than just physical bodies and heat in their small circumference. The center of which felt as hot and fiery as the core of the sun, bliss and forever all drawn close and held together in the same place in a single moment.
Nothing more like perfection than the way even time would stop for them. Seconds slowed down and turned infinite, aligned with the slowing of heartbeats and hot whispers of love, so that each touch, each kiss, each word down to each syllable, was something that made them feel alive. For each other and together.
Nothing more like forever than the night Jaejoong pulled Yoochun closer and murmured into the shell of his ear as if it were a secret. That he no longer dreamed.
Sleep was dark, heavy, and uneventful. Restful. He’d wake up the way he fell asleep, surrounded by warm comfortable bodies and wrapped in yet another single moment of time that was defined solely by hearts beating as one and sighs of content. His heart was soaring, chest tightening in love as arms held him from both sides.
Yoochun had only smiled softly, eyes almost glowing as they rested on Changmin’s sleeping face.
“You still have dreams, pabo-yah.” The deep voice was full of affection. “Right here.” His hand lifted away from its spot hooked around Jaejoong's side and brushed across Changmin’s relaxed cheek, traced his closed eyelids. Jaejoong watched its journey with a small fond smile.
Then Yoochun's gaze broke away, turning his warm heat to look directly into Jaejoong’s eyes. “And here.”
Jaejoong’s eyes slid closed as Yoochun leaned forward and kissed him with those impossibly soft lips. He could feel the other man smiling against him and it was all he could do to return it. That smile felt like sunlight and it tasted like a promise of forever.
***************
~end~
Pairing(s): Jaechunmin
Length: 3/3
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: angst, confusingness?
Genre: AU, drama, angst, angst, angst
Summary: When dreams are more attractive than reality, who can blame him for wanting to lose himself within them forever?
Part 1 | Part 2 |
A/N: um. don't know where this came from suddenly. but its finished O_O my first finished OMGAH~~ TT (sorry its short :P)
*************
Each new revelation and Changmin only felt more and more wrong. Nausea bubbled uncomfortably in his stomach, along with a tightness in his chest that made him feel sick, like bile was stuck suffocatingly in his throat.
He couldn't understand how any of this was possible, thought he must be dreaming even as the doctor related in a calm professional manner everything they knew about the man Park Yoochun. Someone who'd been under their charge in this hospital for more than a few years.
The man spoke as if it were a simple common cold, something normal and easily explained by medical practices as he described how Yoochun seemed to be in a unique sort of coma. It was Jaejoong responded, who pried and asked further, seeming able to comprehend what the doctor was telling them where it all sounded like nonsense, a different language, to Changmin.
Jaejoong wanted to know more details, wanted to know the how, to have everything proved. The doctor recounted as much as he could remember, his tone changing from a monotonous flat medical recitation into something more human, inflecting with emotion as he caught onto Jaejoong's avid interest. Seeming to inflate a little at the undivided attention, he told them how the doctors had tried to hold Yoochun back at first -shocked and concerned about the comatose man inexplicably and suddenly rising from his bed, seeming suddenly perfectly fine.
Apparently, they hadn’t even realized he’d risen for the first week or so, already almost positive he’d never wake again. The doctor himself proudly stated his determination to monitor and watch over the patient, to find out what was wrong with him and how to fix it. He'd made Yoochun his personal responsibility, had spent endless hours, days, months researching and testing.
His shoulders sagged a little as he seemed lost momentarily in memories, and Jaejoong gently drew him back to the present, wanting to know everything the man could offer. He told them that even though they eventually permitted Yoochun to leave the hospital, merely a few hours at a time at first, they still had never officially discharged him even until now.
It was because somehow he'd always found his way back to his hospital room, even after months had passed and he could leave for nearly a day at a time in perfect health both physically and mentally. He would always return to his room, seeming much like any other recovering inpatient in the hospital, except for when he lay down to sleep he'd just as simply slip directly back into his previous comatose state.
In recent months, however, his condition had started to become something of a concern again, when he’d be brought back to the hospital not on his own power, but after calls from various passersby, shops, or random people whom had found him unconscious in various locations around the vicinity of the hospital. Even so, everytime they checked his state it was always the same, no changes for better or worse, yet beneath it all, there was always the unexplainable way in which he rose and went about his life as if he were perfectly healthy and fine.
Until one day during a rudimentary counseling session, he told them he was Kim Jaejoong, a good for nothing loser, and not one musician and songwriter Park Yoochun. This had baffled the doctor, as well as his superiors as he'd informed them of the recent developments of his charge.
As accustomed as he'd become to his uniquely ill patient, studying him constantly over the past years, he'd slowly come to realize their knowledge and theories on split personalities were all underdeveloped and understudied. Yoochun was living proof of something else, an entirely new level, the lapses into coma infuriating in that it was near impossible to explain from a scientific standpoint based on his vital information.
He'd spent more time talking to the man when he was conscious, asking him about himself and recording everything to document the appearances of his other personality. The man had told him any and everything, how he had met a sweet young man in the park, how one thing lead to another and that he'd fallen head over heels in love.
Tape after tape of Yoochun's husky voice retelling the various dates and episodes, all charming laughter and pleasant easy chatter. Despite everything, he continued this albeit broken life quite smoothly. That was until now. Where after a week of failing to wake and walk his usual path, he'd finally opened his eyes with his own power, at long last rousing as his true self.
And years of constantly stable medial statuses were shown for naught, and the doctor who’d declared him comatose for life, certain he could only rouse in this persona of Jaejoong, had had to eat his words. Just as inexplicably as it had started, it ended. The man fully healed and cleared for discharge.
Throughout the man's story, Changmin remained unmoving, staring unseeingly at the floor between his shoes. Hardly blinking, hardly breathing, no visible reaction to any of the incredible, no, unbelievable story. No response to the calm validation of the reality of their situation, no feelings of relief at an explanation for it. Because it still didn't make sense. He almost didn't want it to make sense. Not when it now seemed as if his lover was somehow split between two people.
Suddenly a memory sparked in his mind and Changmin’s stomach clenched as he remembered one foggy day of two years ago that had somehow faded into forgetfulness. How could he have forgotten the time that he’d woke one morning to a lover that wouldn’t wake up? How his lover had inexplicably and horrifyingly remained unresponsive and unconscious as he tried all he could to rouse him.
That day had been a blur of panic and confusion for him. A trip to the nearest hospital where the man was taken away from him, not rushed quickly into the emergency room, but calmly and without concern taken to a dark room that seemed to have almost been waiting for him. He remembered waiting by his side, half delirious with worry, dizzy and dazed after panic and tears made short work of his body, leaving him weak and empty.
It hadn’t been until hours later that the man suddenly woke up, looked around himself contentedly and smiled cheerily up at him. Acting as if nothing had ever happened, and that waking up in a hospital bed was the most normal thing in the world. Changmin had slowly gotten over his shock as the older man not only assured, but proved to him that he was fine, and they had left the sterile whiteness of the building to spend the evening walking on a sun warmed beach, splashing in cool deep blue salt water as the setting sun lit their skin burning yellows and gold.
To this day he could still remember the exact feel of lips fitting perfectly against his own as strong careful hands pressed him into soft warm sand. That had also been the day he’d entirely and irreversibly given himself fully to the other.
He hadn't needed anything more than just them. Every day together was simple and pure happiness. Every easy comfortable laugh and sweet loving kiss.
It was easy enough to forget about the odd hospital incident so long ago. But now, finding himself once more in the room he'd thought he'd forgotten, but could now remember each detail of it so painfully, memorized and burned into his memory from the long hours he'd spent there anxious and on the brink of breaking down as his lover lay as still as if dead. Just as he was once again now.
And he didn't even realize his legs had given out until the arms looping around his waist and guiding him firmly to sit beside the bed kept him from falling. Looking down at the apparently sleeping form, he felt his throat close up as the hands on him rubbed comforting circles on his back, carded soothingly through his hair. He could hardly see the rise and fall of his chest with each shallow breath, and he forced away the fleeting thought that he was delirious and imagining the phantom touch of the person now unconscious before him.
Because he knew the touch was real. Was the real Jaejoong. And he suddenly found he couldn't look at the figure on the bed any more.
Turning abruptly, he was instantly met with a hard chest, Jaejoong gathering him wordlessly into his arms and holding him against his heart. Cradled in the comforting embrace, the understanding and care washed over him, and Changmin closed his eyes as he buried his face in the other's shirt.
It felt like ages later that he finally found himself calming to the soft steady beating of Jaejoong's heart, laying against the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and he felt so small and enveloped by something so much bigger and stronger than himself. Lips pressed against his hair, and he took a deep breath.
Neither of them spoke a word the whole time, but Jaejoong still effortlessly knew exactly what he'd needed. Even if he no longer looked like the same person.
Changmin forced himself to pull away, to turn sad eyes back to the man on the bed. He took his time, eyes slowly tracing the lines and curves of his face. The handsome line of his nose, the swell of full kissable lips. He couldn't help but remember how it felt to trace them with his own lips, and he was suddenly fighting the urge to reach out and touch him.
It broke his heart. The way his heart ached to take him in his arms, rock him until he woke and looked back at him with that familiar sparkle in deep brown eyes. It broke his heart because he was frozen in place, couldn't even lift a single finger, mind shutting down as it told him that the man before him wasn't his hyung, but a stranger.
His fingers curled into fists, the only outward sign of his internal battle, and he stared at the sleeping man as if he blinked he may disappear. Nothing was certain anymore since the impossible had happened, and he felt so lost and more than that, just scared.
Who was this man? And how had Jaejoong lived through him? Why?
He didn't understand, knew that even the doctors couldn't explain if they knew the full truth, if they knew who the dark haired man beside him was, but he still couldn't deny or refuse the feelings that swelled within him as he gazed upon the face he knew so well. The one he loved more than anything.
If only he would just open his eyes and tell him it was alright. That this had all been a dream before he took him in his arms again. Except it couldn't be a dream. He was startled from his thoughts as somebody shifted beside him.
"Park Yoochun."
A soft still nearly unfamiliar voice, just above a whisper, and he tore his eyes away at last to see Jaejoong bending over the bed. His eyes were lit with a steady soft gaze, something full of wonder, his tone one nearly hesitantly reverent. He turned to meet Changmin's expectant stare.
"His name is Yoochun." He said softly, as if trying not to wake him, but the look in his eyes spoke of something else, as if that name was something incredibly important, a look so painfully sad yet tearfully happy at the same time.
Changmin shook his head slightly. The name didn't mean anything to him, and he still wished deep down that he'd never heard it. It was almost a physical blow, jarring, as it clearly and strictly solidified the reality that this was not the man he thought or wanted it to be.
Not the one he'd spent days and years of contentment with as they built a life together, not the man he'd poured his deepest secrets to, nor danced with together in the rain after his mother died until he was no longer able to tell if the drops on his cheeks were those of rain or tears. He still remembered how that kiss had tasted like home.
Jaejoong watched his reaction as he shook his head again more firmly and was reaching for him the next moment, arms twining about his shoulders as if they belonged there, the gentle kiss placed on his cheek so warm and comforting.
"No, Min." He murmured against his skin. "No, you're wrong." He pulled back to search his eyes earnestly, trying to convince him of something his mind now screamed was a lie. "We know him."
He released him to turn and look at Yoochun again, and the sad longing on his face seemed so foreign to Changmin even as it made his heart beat slower. Because it mirrored the exact way he felt as well, and this made him almost angry.
"Who are you to tell me something like that now?" His voice wavered dangerously, and the dark haired man faced him again with those big sorrowful eyes. Eyes still so full of an understanding he couldn't quite comprehend. Yet he looked so sorry and that was what made the anger burn all the fiercer. It made him want to lash out, to blame. "I'm not even sure who you are anymore."
It wasn't really true, but it wasn't a lie either. He regretted the words as hurt crossed Jaejoong's face, but he couldn't deny the confusion of having both of them before him was causing the ache in his chest to be nearly unbearable.
"Changmin-ah." His brows crinkled as he frowned, hands reaching to catch his own, his tone pleading. "It's me...just like it always has been. Just... all of me." He shook his head. His eyes were suddenly shimmering, glossing over as tears gathered threateningly. "Finally all of me. But now...none of him."
His fingers tightened around Changmin's and he barely repressed the way he wanted to squeeze back in response. He was blaming the pain in his chest as the thing that kept him from reaching out to smooth the lines twisting his face in grief or kiss away the wetness clinging to his eyelashes. Because he couldn't help it. The face before him was still so new, unknown, and he bit his lip to try and keep back the sting behind his own eyes.
Jaejoong took a deep breath and blinked rapidly to clear his eyes. "Please trust me, love. Everything will be okay. We'll figure this out together, okay?"
Changmin couldn't do more than merely nod his head weakly. He wanted to rely on the confidence and trust in that voice, wanted to believe the words, and more than anything he just wanted everything back to the way it was. Him and Jaejoong... He would have already broken, fallen apart if it weren't for the fact that he'd seen the exact same desire in the other's eyes. Felt it through every caress and word. But it still didn't make this any easier or clearer.
Jaejoong didn't release his hand even as he once more turned to Yoochun. The look on his face, the light that instantly sparked in his eyes, something soft and happy. And his voice held a clear note of wonderment that Changmin tried desperately to understand.
"This is Yoochun." He repeated quietly as if reconfirming, eyes nearly glowing with something so gentle and loving and Changmin found himself looking as well, a familiar wave of those exact emotions crashing over him once again. He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat.
He tried to match the name to the face, trying not to think of the sound of his voice, the brightness of his smile, not when he couldn't stop the last thing he'd heard from repeating over and over in his head. Him telling him he was someone else, him indicating a stranger to be who he was supposed to be.
He let out a shaky breath, watching almost transfixed as Jaejoong hesitantly, ever so slowly reached out his hand towards Yoochun's sleeping face.
Pale fingers brushed carefully across one cheek, drawing back and curling momentarily into a loose fist. A pause. A single breath. And then he was tracing the curve of his cheek, lifting again to brush bangs across his forehead, a thumb drawing carefully along his jaw.
The movement of his hand was captivating in the slow deliberate caresses. The touch of a heartfelt lover, yet imbued with all the tentative heart stopping thrill of a first. Not like the age-worn easy comfortableness of Changmin's hand. And it made him remember only too well their first moments, the fluttering of his heart, the blood pounding in his veins.
And he couldn't stop the gasp that left his mouth as Yoochun's eyelids fluttered. Surprised at the sudden reaction as well, Jaejoong drew his hand back with a start. But Yoochun's hand reached out quickly to catch his wrist just before he could move away. So close beside him, Changmin could clearly hear the way his breath caught in his throat.
They both stared down at Yoochun, who ever so slowly blinked hazy brown eyes open. Changmin's heart nearly stopped as after he blinked a second time, the heavy gaze fell undeniably upon himself.
Breathe in. Breathe out. And Yoochun held him captive with nothing more than his eyes. Breathe in sharply. Because Yoochun smiled.
Changmin was reaching out without even realizing it, fingers curling reflexively in fabric, his head coming to land heavily upon a familiar shoulder. And his eyes burned. He was crying, but he didn't care. All the anxiety, the worries, doubts, fears. The loss. Everything was put right, fit back into a perfectly constructed puzzle. Each small piece custom made to rest together with the next. And everything was really going to be okay. Yoochun's expression had told him so.
He could hear soft voices above him, comforting and caring, warm hands running along his back while another caressed his hair. And nothing felt more right than this. His heart ached until it felt ready to burst, hot tears wetting Yoochun's shirt as he threw himself into the feelings without abandon. Because they were both there to catch him, to hold him up and set up upright once again.
Hours later and Yoochun still hadn't let go of Jaejoong's hand. Their fingers were now entwined comfortably, Yoochun's thumb running softly across Jaejoong knuckle. Changmin remained curled into Yoochun's side even long after his back ached and legs cramped. He didn't want to move. Didn't want to lose the feel of warmth on all sides, especially not after Jaejoong had slipped his free hand under the hem of his shirt to press warm fingers into his back. Comforting and intimate. Perfect.
It was Yoochun who decided to take the audio tapes home, the ones that narrated their memories together. Something that should only be theirs, precious and sad. A reminder of the time they'd spent apart, not yet a true whole, even though at the same time already all together.
Nothing was more like home than huddling together on the rickety piano bench, laughter and giggles cascading as hands slid only too accurately and purposefully along sensitive skin, all tickles and jabbing elbows until Yoochun's fingers were seduced by the ivory and black keys spread before them.
Nothing was more romantic than Jaejoong's sweet clear tones wrapping about their own like a long awaited embrace, arms that lifted them into soaring breathtaking melodies. A sound they'd once thought beautiful and complete before only now finding truth and completion in the intricate weaving and crescendo of three.
Nothing was more beautiful than eyes glittering softly in glowing yellow candle light, in skin and souls laid bare, in the way human arms could encompass and hold so much more than just physical bodies and heat in their small circumference. The center of which felt as hot and fiery as the core of the sun, bliss and forever all drawn close and held together in the same place in a single moment.
Nothing more like perfection than the way even time would stop for them. Seconds slowed down and turned infinite, aligned with the slowing of heartbeats and hot whispers of love, so that each touch, each kiss, each word down to each syllable, was something that made them feel alive. For each other and together.
Nothing more like forever than the night Jaejoong pulled Yoochun closer and murmured into the shell of his ear as if it were a secret. That he no longer dreamed.
Sleep was dark, heavy, and uneventful. Restful. He’d wake up the way he fell asleep, surrounded by warm comfortable bodies and wrapped in yet another single moment of time that was defined solely by hearts beating as one and sighs of content. His heart was soaring, chest tightening in love as arms held him from both sides.
Yoochun had only smiled softly, eyes almost glowing as they rested on Changmin’s sleeping face.
“You still have dreams, pabo-yah.” The deep voice was full of affection. “Right here.” His hand lifted away from its spot hooked around Jaejoong's side and brushed across Changmin’s relaxed cheek, traced his closed eyelids. Jaejoong watched its journey with a small fond smile.
Then Yoochun's gaze broke away, turning his warm heat to look directly into Jaejoong’s eyes. “And here.”
Jaejoong’s eyes slid closed as Yoochun leaned forward and kissed him with those impossibly soft lips. He could feel the other man smiling against him and it was all he could do to return it. That smile felt like sunlight and it tasted like a promise of forever.
***************
~end~