A Sense of Closure
Title: A Sense of Closure
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, Romance
Word Count: 3,426
Disclaimer: unbetaed. This is a work of fiction.
Summary: Junsu runs a business. He doesn't usually let his customer run his heart.
Junsu runs a small business, one where he can see pretty smiles behind a thin tulle veil, couples kissing like they are already on their honeymoon, and too much fabric and cloth for a guy his age to be able to tell apart. He doesn’t mind being surrounded by laces and petticoats though, it’s a beautiful welcome for his customers, and he finds that happiness even more fulfilling when the right dress is adorn on the bride-to-be.
Materials hang on and off of his store walls like velvet curtains and exotic tapestries, intricate as a snowflake and magnificent as the Taj Mahal. But materials are only materials, meaningless textures and patterns, until it is cut and trimmed and fitted, patch by patch and stitch by stitch. The perfect quilt comes in the form of a white dress, a story draping along a lady’s waist, the past is behind, the present is now, the future is ahead. Your moment is now…take it… take it… take it!
It’s a service, he says, offered to anyone who wants to tie the knot, because Junsu have seen, too many times, how the strings of marriage have slip and slide, the pushing and pulling in a tug-of-war, and then untangle and unravel before his eyes. Junsu tells his customers, mostly consisting of a flock of female fantasizing for the perfect moment, to believe in the power of love, because love will play with your heart, the crash and burn is only to get you ready for Mr. Right.
It’s a bunch of bullshit baloney that Junsu ends up believing anyway, it’s how he makes a living, how can he not believe in the nonsense he sprout when he live and breathe in champagnes and roses, he practically builds the start of these undying vows, and no one- no one- can blame him for that, not when he is doing such an awesome job at recreating the white dream every girl have ever dreamed of.
Business is business, nonetheless, and Junsu tries hard not to get too emotionally attached to his clienteles. It’s hard though when he spends so much time with the bride and her family, the groom and his. Needless to say, he had had his fair share of trouble with in-laws throwing daggers behind the bride’s shoulders, mothers hating each others’ gut, disagreement and arguments over the smallest matter, but Junsu is kind and sweet, compromise is reached when he offers a suggestion, neither side refusing to give in or out, but Junsu somehow secretly manages to seal the deal.
Worthwhile, is the word in his mind as he stands near the altar and sees the bride leaning in, the groom kissing her senseless, and he blushes a little, before looking away.
With only two anniversaries behind its back, ‘Beautiful Things’ is still young, but growing exponentially in the past year,-all thanks to the media coverage he had gotten after hitting it big with a celebrity- and Junsu is finding a few more people inside his shop each day.
It is on third year that Junsu receives his first male client, just as the New Year passes, the snow haven’t even melted when a handsome young man, rich by the looks of it with his sleek black suit, dewy snow drops staining his shoulder and dark hair, enters the humble shop.
“I will be having a wedding at the end of this year,” the man says, pearly teeth blindingly white on white against satin dresses and fluorescent lights. “Make it so that her future is right before her eyes on that day for me?”
A lifetime of a promise, but Junsu does not hesitate to agree, this could be his biggest challenge yet, and all Junsu could think of right then is ‘who is the lucky girl?’.
The man comes and disappears all too quickly for Junsu to even write the order down properly, its fine though as they meet a week later, when the snow isn’t as heavy, and the hitches of Junsu’s breath isn’t capture by the frozen air. Yoochun, the handsome stranger’s name, shows a picture of his fiancé to Junsu, who is a little dizzy and star struck. Yoochun’s soon-to-be-wife is the face of Korea, the face that every woman in the country would die to own, the face in every magazine, television, billboard.
Too much work needed to be done, Junsu isn’t sure a year would be enough time to prepare everything Yoochun have requested. This is the first time Junsu is working with the groom solely, as the super model of a bride is too busy to plan out and organize her own wedding. To Junsu’s surprise, Yoochun has been very meticulous in briefing him the outline of the ceremony; it’s exciting to see the light shining in the other man's eyes as Yoochun envision something as spectacular as this.
February in Korea is as cold and biting as the arctic, spring is so near yet so far, the snow is thawing but no green buds of life is sprouting from the hard ground just yet. Green tea warms Junsu’s hand as he inhales the sweet scent between his palms. Across from him, Yoochun has on a dazzling smile as he shares little details of his engagement and tales of late night surprise.
A month later, Junsu meets a slender woman in a skin tight dress, her boobs peeking out from the depth of her low cut neckline, creamy thighs and legs so long Junsu wonder if it will ever end. Red stains her lips and nails, lashes so dark and thick, Junsu got lost in its shadow. She’s gorgeous, he thinks, but it’s a different type of gorgeous, not what he was expecting- she’s prettier on the cover of a magazine and nicer on his television screen.
Junsu doesn’t usually judge people, but, this time, the tapping of his fingers on his hardwood desk, as the woman inspect for every millimeter of dust, was telling him otherwise. But Yoochun finds every piece of her lovely, and that is all that matters, his eyes softening to a liquid glow, lids drooping low, hazy in a dreamlike state, and hooding over the middle of his pupils. There is so much adoration and love reflected in Yoochun’s eyes that Junsu wish someone would look at him like that.
Little cherry blossoms are almost in full bloom, pinks and whites scatterings in the wind, petals falling on Junsu’s hair, on his cheek, Yoochun admiring the gale as they walk side by side along a strip of boutiques. The chiming of little bells signal their entrance and it isn’t long after that Junsu and Yoochun both spy a creamy white tuxedo hidden behind rows of black and grey.
Licking his lips, only to have it become more dry moments later, Junsu find it hard to breathe when Yoochun opens the fitting room door, revealing broad chest and wide shoulders, long legs and oh-so-fitted trousers. Junsu smiles a crooked smile when he sees the top three buttons are undone, tie dangling below the fold of the collar.
“How would you like to be my best man, Junsu-ah?” Yoochun asks when Junsu comes to adjust the tie, shifting it this way and that before it sits just below the middle of Yoochun’s throat. “I’ve been meaning to ask...You see I don’t have many close friends whom I can make such a request to.”
“I can’t be the best man and run the wedding at the same time.” Brow still raised, Junsu‘s marble eyes are so fix on Yoochun’s that he does not even notice the curl of Yoochun’s finger stroking up his cheeks.
Only when Yoochun smile, eyes dropping low and steady, did Junsu realize the small petal lying on Yoochun’s finger had been on his face.
“Oh, how I wish you would be by side when I say my vows. Having you next to me would be reassuring. Surely, I wouldn’t stumble with my words if you’re there, Junsu-ah.”
There are workers who he could have easily send, but Junsu find that he would rather have them answer the phone, the endless inquires, text family members little reminders , appointment and meet up, sort through invitations, friends and company,- anything really to keep his employees occupied- while he is by Yoochun’s side, explaining the painstaking difference between cake flavorings, multi layer of crème on top a tiered cake, and the meaning of carnations and camellias, to the art of arranging and rearranging, lilies and magnolias.
Six months until December, six months until it would be all over, Yoochun is on the verge of pulling his hair out. The groom’s frustration is something Junsu is accustom to, so he tells Yoochun that woman are all like that, females want the impossible, are unreasonable, and does not truly expect things to come out their way.
Thus, a little surprise is good, Junsu says, he knows because he has been in this business long enough to know a woman’s heart inside out. Yoochun is reluctant to comply as they search for the perfect wedding band together, elbow touching elbow on top the thick glass surface.
Diamonds of all sizes sparkle and shine under the harsh exposure, too many too bright lights, silver and gold and platinum stares back at him and Junsu winces at the price tag. It’s a feast for his eyes, really, but Junsu would rather not see this kind of gallery so early in the morning. His legs roam aimlessly until something finally catches his eyes, a simple wedding band, and for once it isn’t overdone. A small diamond glimmers in the middle of the band while smaller precious gems are encrusted around the ring, from afar it’s simple and elegant, up close classy and versatile.
Just what they needed, he thinks, as he leans over to over to touch the ‘bvlgari’ engraving, but Junsu isn’t the only one with his eyes on the prize, and as he leans over his finger collides with a warm hand- Yoochun’s hand.
It’s perfect, Yoochun thinks aloud, and Junsu couldn’t help but agree.
They see more and less of each other now, drop off in the morning and drive by in the evening, endless boxes of décor, and page after page of invitees, special guests, honorable mentions, performers, acts, shows. It’s September, and it is Junsu who is more nervous than both the broom and bride. Paparazzi, with their shameless cameras, follow his every move, asking for the slightest detail of the ceremony, what type of dress is the bride wearing, will her previous boyfriends be there.
Yoochun looks tired, dark rings under his eyes, stubble along his upper lip, less and less vibrant each time Junsu sees him and Junsu wonder if the wedding will go on as plan. To be honest, he’s scared, because there is so much pressure and hype from the media, magazine overflowing with images of his work, pretty and meaningless words splattering its cover.
Needlework isn’t half as fun when Junsu is poking his fingers every few minute; someone could’ve mistaken him as a diabetic from the many holes spotting his fingertips. But he sucks it up and continues to stitch a pair of loving swan onto a pillow cover that Yoochun’s bride had requested. The supermodel is extravagant with her needs, Yoochun being as careful and meticulous as he is, is no match for the woman’s spontaneous wishes.
The sudden pounding of the rain catches Junsu’s attention for a quick moment and then through the large glass windowpane shielding him inside, Junsu sees Yoochun waving at him from across the street, cars rushing back and forth, horns blowing and traffic lights changing, as the man stands there alone.
He’s not suppose to be here, Junsu thinks, both of their schedule screaming packed, but Yoochun is without an umbrella and Junsu is suddenly abandoning his little shop.
Once changed,- good thing Junsu has Yoochun’s measurements and extra clothes around his size- coffee warms their belly as they sit inside a small café, Junsu wondering when the rain will stop and Yoochun silently drinking in Junsu’s pondering.
“Tell me about your dream wedding,” Yoochun suddenly says, voice soft and kind like what it had been on their first meeting. Junsu shakes his head, hand bringing the hot ceramic cup closer to his lips, exhaling when the heat rushes down his throat and into the pits of his stomach.
“I don’t want a wedding.” Junsu smiles politely when he catches Yoochun off guard, his dilated eyes staring back at Junsu in shock. “Not that I don’t want to get married… I do…but wouldn’t it be a lot easier if we skip the wedding and go straight for honeymoon?”
A streak of light crosses Yoochun’s eyes as he chuckle in agreement and then Junsu is flushing from the look of contemplation in the other’s liquid orbs, it was that look again. Junsu takes another sip of his Americano, it’s not like the other man to ask silly questions, it’s not like Yoochun to skip out on work, not like him to spend time with Junsu outside of the busy busy lives.
Twenty-five, Yoochun is still so young, and he is getting married in a few months, Junsu is only a year older and he can’t remember the last time he went out on a date. Marriage is such a sensitive topic for Junsu, he doesn’t want to face the fact that he might never get married, might never find true love, is there even a Mr. Right for him, who would be willing to hold Junsu through rain and shine.
His reverie is broken by Yoochun’s voice, head clearing up from the clouds fogging his mind, visions sharpening in on Yoochun’s lip, a crème mustache Junsu is suppressing the urge to lick. “What’s the matter?”
“I think I understand why different people view marriage differently.”
November is romantic, windy and full of surprises, Junsu wonder why Yoochun didn’t appointed spring or summer for the wedding, autumn would have been nice as well, anything anything but winter. He shivers a little inside his thin wool jacket, face burying deeper into the warm confines of the fabric. From the corner of his eye, Yoochun sees the exchange, hides his laughter in his thick coat as he untangle the long piece of cloth from his shoulders, wrapping the scarf around Junsu’s neck.
A week from saying ‘I do’, Yoochun seems like a changed man, healthy and glowing , skin so smooth Junsu wants to poke the other man’s cheek just to feel if he was real. Everything is perfectly in place or as perfect as it gets, all that are left are the tiny amendments needed to be made to the wedding dress, flecks of gold to be added below the waist line, crystals embroidering the busty neckline, and everything would be clinch so that it would accentuate the model’s body line.
Velvet curtains separate the two once inside, Yoochun sitting with patience as he waits to see his bride, Junsu attempting to string the corset into a bow. He tries a little too hard, but only because the waist line is too tiny for any woman- yes, even a supermodel- to breathe properly in, and then something went wrong- a pop is heard- and then Junsu is thrown backwards on the ground.
The noise startles Yoochun, who quickly rushes in to find his bride, with her chest barely covered, lying on top of Junsu. The groom swallows a thick lump in his throat, bends down on one knee, and then Junsu is surprise to find Yoochun offering him the helping hand first.
It’s D-day, and Junsu isn’t really sure how he is feeling now that the big moment is finally here, butterflies in his stomach or ants in his pants, Yoochun smiling and DaHae posing for the cameras. Every single flower and dish has been inspected under his scrutiny, there is nothing misplaced, champagne roses and white lilies arranged to fit the occasion, drinks and finger food going around the reception, and no one that isn’t supposed to be here is found anywhere near the vicinity of the white chapel.
There are a lot more cameras than Junsu would like, he have been watching them, counting and recounting when he feels as though the cameramen might have multiplied. His paranoia of camera and filming only spikes whenever he sees Yoochun looking uncomfortably at the camera lens while DaHae pretends to kiss him on cheek.
Junsu smiles a little when Yoochun spots him amongst the crowd, but he doesn’t stay around long enough for the groom to start a conversation, too busy running around checking and rechecking for perfection. It’s about to be noon, and as soon as the clock strikes twelve, the tower bell will signal for the start of the ceremony. Friends and family takes up the first few rows, but Junsu manages to get a decent seat on the pew on the far left side with the groom’s family.
Little girls in little white dresses, colorful wreaths on their heads, flower petals sprinkling from their hands, skips and dances down the aisle as they lead the way for the bride. The music is on cue, step by step, following the leading lady’s footstep. It’s a symphony of a sound as Yoochun takes her hand. The priest opens his thick leather bounded book, recites old tradition and forgotten values, and then looks up from behind his circular frames, not at all expecting for a single soul to deny this union.
He’s not, Junsu thinks, he’s not looking at you, but oh Yoochun is looking straight at Junsu, eyes calm as the ocean and smooth as a sail, before whispering his ‘I do’. Breath caught in his throat, Junsu fails to realize how deathly silent the chapel has become, everyone, too, holding their breath, expecting, expecting-
“I…I- can’t do it... I’m so sorry, Yoochun-ah.”
Tears are on DaHae’s face, - alligator tears, Junsu thinks- as she picks up her heavy, heavy gown, scurrying off in those ridiculously expensive heels, loud whispers in the crowd of family and guests, misery and company, more headlines for the reporters to make.
There are too many movements, the pushing and shoving of hands and arms and high heels against waxy leather shoes, Yoochun is just standing there, too shellshock to even move, and Junsu wants to get near him, hold him close, wipe the invisible tears rolling down his cheeks- but to no avail.
Some things just aren’t meant to be.
His first wedding ruined,- not Yoochun’s but Junsu’s- it’s the first time he has not manage to complete a service, tie the red thread of fate between two lovers, and it should hurt, his reputation is on the line but Junsu is somewhat relieved, he can finally breathe. Yoochun doesn’t deserve to put aside by fashion and photo shoots, DaHae is gorgeous and young, she isn’t ready to be tied down, and if they were to be united, a separation would have ultimately occurred, and Yoochun just doesn’t deserve that.
New Year has just passed, and with it the wedding of the year, scandal of last year, really. Business is slowing down thanks to the cold, too much snow and ice for weddings cakes, so Junsu sits inside his little shop alone, munching on his bag of potato chips, not at all expecting the ringing of the wind chime as a man enters the front door.
With an umbrella underneath his hand, Yoochun is leaning all of his weight on his left foot, right foot crossing from behind, and his eyes are smiling, grinning with something Junsu can’t exactly pinpoint, but he knows that look, of mischief and wonder.
“I decided not to ever plan my own wedding again. It’s going to be my New Year’s Resolution. ” Reaching into the depth of his coat pocket, Yoochun pulls out a pair of tickets, a destination with warm sand, sparkling water, and many many coconut trees. “How does an early vacation sound?”
Junsu runs a small business, one where he can hear the chirping of mated doves as they take flight, the echoes of little bells ringing in harmony, the popping of champagne bottles, tin cans rolling erratically along a ‘just married’ plate.
This is his fourth anniversary, and for the first time since he has rendered his service, Junsu is not in his shop, he is in a plane, heading for BoraBora, with Yoochun.
+++
A/N: Hello, don't kill me yet though..I've been feeling under the weather lately, it has been thunder storming for a week straight, work and life being mean to me, so no updates on pitch perfect this week. really sorry >__''< i needed to vent a little and writing helps. this was suppose to be a drabble at first.. and then a ficlet... and then my otp demanded to have more time with each other so there you go lol
In other news, yoosu anniversary is right around the corner! If you are good at making graphics/visuals.. begging for someone to help me make one for my first ever fanmix X'D and... I might be taking request/plot bunniehs (for 729) so if u want to read kinky!yoosu, au!yoosu, broken!yoosu , do let me know and i'll see what i can do. :)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, Romance
Word Count: 3,426
Disclaimer: unbetaed. This is a work of fiction.
Summary: Junsu runs a business. He doesn't usually let his customer run his heart.
Junsu runs a small business, one where he can see pretty smiles behind a thin tulle veil, couples kissing like they are already on their honeymoon, and too much fabric and cloth for a guy his age to be able to tell apart. He doesn’t mind being surrounded by laces and petticoats though, it’s a beautiful welcome for his customers, and he finds that happiness even more fulfilling when the right dress is adorn on the bride-to-be.
Materials hang on and off of his store walls like velvet curtains and exotic tapestries, intricate as a snowflake and magnificent as the Taj Mahal. But materials are only materials, meaningless textures and patterns, until it is cut and trimmed and fitted, patch by patch and stitch by stitch. The perfect quilt comes in the form of a white dress, a story draping along a lady’s waist, the past is behind, the present is now, the future is ahead. Your moment is now…take it… take it… take it!
It’s a service, he says, offered to anyone who wants to tie the knot, because Junsu have seen, too many times, how the strings of marriage have slip and slide, the pushing and pulling in a tug-of-war, and then untangle and unravel before his eyes. Junsu tells his customers, mostly consisting of a flock of female fantasizing for the perfect moment, to believe in the power of love, because love will play with your heart, the crash and burn is only to get you ready for Mr. Right.
It’s a bunch of bullshit baloney that Junsu ends up believing anyway, it’s how he makes a living, how can he not believe in the nonsense he sprout when he live and breathe in champagnes and roses, he practically builds the start of these undying vows, and no one- no one- can blame him for that, not when he is doing such an awesome job at recreating the white dream every girl have ever dreamed of.
Business is business, nonetheless, and Junsu tries hard not to get too emotionally attached to his clienteles. It’s hard though when he spends so much time with the bride and her family, the groom and his. Needless to say, he had had his fair share of trouble with in-laws throwing daggers behind the bride’s shoulders, mothers hating each others’ gut, disagreement and arguments over the smallest matter, but Junsu is kind and sweet, compromise is reached when he offers a suggestion, neither side refusing to give in or out, but Junsu somehow secretly manages to seal the deal.
Worthwhile, is the word in his mind as he stands near the altar and sees the bride leaning in, the groom kissing her senseless, and he blushes a little, before looking away.
With only two anniversaries behind its back, ‘Beautiful Things’ is still young, but growing exponentially in the past year,-all thanks to the media coverage he had gotten after hitting it big with a celebrity- and Junsu is finding a few more people inside his shop each day.
It is on third year that Junsu receives his first male client, just as the New Year passes, the snow haven’t even melted when a handsome young man, rich by the looks of it with his sleek black suit, dewy snow drops staining his shoulder and dark hair, enters the humble shop.
“I will be having a wedding at the end of this year,” the man says, pearly teeth blindingly white on white against satin dresses and fluorescent lights. “Make it so that her future is right before her eyes on that day for me?”
A lifetime of a promise, but Junsu does not hesitate to agree, this could be his biggest challenge yet, and all Junsu could think of right then is ‘who is the lucky girl?’.
The man comes and disappears all too quickly for Junsu to even write the order down properly, its fine though as they meet a week later, when the snow isn’t as heavy, and the hitches of Junsu’s breath isn’t capture by the frozen air. Yoochun, the handsome stranger’s name, shows a picture of his fiancé to Junsu, who is a little dizzy and star struck. Yoochun’s soon-to-be-wife is the face of Korea, the face that every woman in the country would die to own, the face in every magazine, television, billboard.
Too much work needed to be done, Junsu isn’t sure a year would be enough time to prepare everything Yoochun have requested. This is the first time Junsu is working with the groom solely, as the super model of a bride is too busy to plan out and organize her own wedding. To Junsu’s surprise, Yoochun has been very meticulous in briefing him the outline of the ceremony; it’s exciting to see the light shining in the other man's eyes as Yoochun envision something as spectacular as this.
February in Korea is as cold and biting as the arctic, spring is so near yet so far, the snow is thawing but no green buds of life is sprouting from the hard ground just yet. Green tea warms Junsu’s hand as he inhales the sweet scent between his palms. Across from him, Yoochun has on a dazzling smile as he shares little details of his engagement and tales of late night surprise.
A month later, Junsu meets a slender woman in a skin tight dress, her boobs peeking out from the depth of her low cut neckline, creamy thighs and legs so long Junsu wonder if it will ever end. Red stains her lips and nails, lashes so dark and thick, Junsu got lost in its shadow. She’s gorgeous, he thinks, but it’s a different type of gorgeous, not what he was expecting- she’s prettier on the cover of a magazine and nicer on his television screen.
Junsu doesn’t usually judge people, but, this time, the tapping of his fingers on his hardwood desk, as the woman inspect for every millimeter of dust, was telling him otherwise. But Yoochun finds every piece of her lovely, and that is all that matters, his eyes softening to a liquid glow, lids drooping low, hazy in a dreamlike state, and hooding over the middle of his pupils. There is so much adoration and love reflected in Yoochun’s eyes that Junsu wish someone would look at him like that.
Little cherry blossoms are almost in full bloom, pinks and whites scatterings in the wind, petals falling on Junsu’s hair, on his cheek, Yoochun admiring the gale as they walk side by side along a strip of boutiques. The chiming of little bells signal their entrance and it isn’t long after that Junsu and Yoochun both spy a creamy white tuxedo hidden behind rows of black and grey.
Licking his lips, only to have it become more dry moments later, Junsu find it hard to breathe when Yoochun opens the fitting room door, revealing broad chest and wide shoulders, long legs and oh-so-fitted trousers. Junsu smiles a crooked smile when he sees the top three buttons are undone, tie dangling below the fold of the collar.
“How would you like to be my best man, Junsu-ah?” Yoochun asks when Junsu comes to adjust the tie, shifting it this way and that before it sits just below the middle of Yoochun’s throat. “I’ve been meaning to ask...You see I don’t have many close friends whom I can make such a request to.”
“I can’t be the best man and run the wedding at the same time.” Brow still raised, Junsu‘s marble eyes are so fix on Yoochun’s that he does not even notice the curl of Yoochun’s finger stroking up his cheeks.
Only when Yoochun smile, eyes dropping low and steady, did Junsu realize the small petal lying on Yoochun’s finger had been on his face.
“Oh, how I wish you would be by side when I say my vows. Having you next to me would be reassuring. Surely, I wouldn’t stumble with my words if you’re there, Junsu-ah.”
There are workers who he could have easily send, but Junsu find that he would rather have them answer the phone, the endless inquires, text family members little reminders , appointment and meet up, sort through invitations, friends and company,- anything really to keep his employees occupied- while he is by Yoochun’s side, explaining the painstaking difference between cake flavorings, multi layer of crème on top a tiered cake, and the meaning of carnations and camellias, to the art of arranging and rearranging, lilies and magnolias.
Six months until December, six months until it would be all over, Yoochun is on the verge of pulling his hair out. The groom’s frustration is something Junsu is accustom to, so he tells Yoochun that woman are all like that, females want the impossible, are unreasonable, and does not truly expect things to come out their way.
Thus, a little surprise is good, Junsu says, he knows because he has been in this business long enough to know a woman’s heart inside out. Yoochun is reluctant to comply as they search for the perfect wedding band together, elbow touching elbow on top the thick glass surface.
Diamonds of all sizes sparkle and shine under the harsh exposure, too many too bright lights, silver and gold and platinum stares back at him and Junsu winces at the price tag. It’s a feast for his eyes, really, but Junsu would rather not see this kind of gallery so early in the morning. His legs roam aimlessly until something finally catches his eyes, a simple wedding band, and for once it isn’t overdone. A small diamond glimmers in the middle of the band while smaller precious gems are encrusted around the ring, from afar it’s simple and elegant, up close classy and versatile.
Just what they needed, he thinks, as he leans over to over to touch the ‘bvlgari’ engraving, but Junsu isn’t the only one with his eyes on the prize, and as he leans over his finger collides with a warm hand- Yoochun’s hand.
It’s perfect, Yoochun thinks aloud, and Junsu couldn’t help but agree.
They see more and less of each other now, drop off in the morning and drive by in the evening, endless boxes of décor, and page after page of invitees, special guests, honorable mentions, performers, acts, shows. It’s September, and it is Junsu who is more nervous than both the broom and bride. Paparazzi, with their shameless cameras, follow his every move, asking for the slightest detail of the ceremony, what type of dress is the bride wearing, will her previous boyfriends be there.
Yoochun looks tired, dark rings under his eyes, stubble along his upper lip, less and less vibrant each time Junsu sees him and Junsu wonder if the wedding will go on as plan. To be honest, he’s scared, because there is so much pressure and hype from the media, magazine overflowing with images of his work, pretty and meaningless words splattering its cover.
Needlework isn’t half as fun when Junsu is poking his fingers every few minute; someone could’ve mistaken him as a diabetic from the many holes spotting his fingertips. But he sucks it up and continues to stitch a pair of loving swan onto a pillow cover that Yoochun’s bride had requested. The supermodel is extravagant with her needs, Yoochun being as careful and meticulous as he is, is no match for the woman’s spontaneous wishes.
The sudden pounding of the rain catches Junsu’s attention for a quick moment and then through the large glass windowpane shielding him inside, Junsu sees Yoochun waving at him from across the street, cars rushing back and forth, horns blowing and traffic lights changing, as the man stands there alone.
He’s not suppose to be here, Junsu thinks, both of their schedule screaming packed, but Yoochun is without an umbrella and Junsu is suddenly abandoning his little shop.
Once changed,- good thing Junsu has Yoochun’s measurements and extra clothes around his size- coffee warms their belly as they sit inside a small café, Junsu wondering when the rain will stop and Yoochun silently drinking in Junsu’s pondering.
“Tell me about your dream wedding,” Yoochun suddenly says, voice soft and kind like what it had been on their first meeting. Junsu shakes his head, hand bringing the hot ceramic cup closer to his lips, exhaling when the heat rushes down his throat and into the pits of his stomach.
“I don’t want a wedding.” Junsu smiles politely when he catches Yoochun off guard, his dilated eyes staring back at Junsu in shock. “Not that I don’t want to get married… I do…but wouldn’t it be a lot easier if we skip the wedding and go straight for honeymoon?”
A streak of light crosses Yoochun’s eyes as he chuckle in agreement and then Junsu is flushing from the look of contemplation in the other’s liquid orbs, it was that look again. Junsu takes another sip of his Americano, it’s not like the other man to ask silly questions, it’s not like Yoochun to skip out on work, not like him to spend time with Junsu outside of the busy busy lives.
Twenty-five, Yoochun is still so young, and he is getting married in a few months, Junsu is only a year older and he can’t remember the last time he went out on a date. Marriage is such a sensitive topic for Junsu, he doesn’t want to face the fact that he might never get married, might never find true love, is there even a Mr. Right for him, who would be willing to hold Junsu through rain and shine.
His reverie is broken by Yoochun’s voice, head clearing up from the clouds fogging his mind, visions sharpening in on Yoochun’s lip, a crème mustache Junsu is suppressing the urge to lick. “What’s the matter?”
“I think I understand why different people view marriage differently.”
November is romantic, windy and full of surprises, Junsu wonder why Yoochun didn’t appointed spring or summer for the wedding, autumn would have been nice as well, anything anything but winter. He shivers a little inside his thin wool jacket, face burying deeper into the warm confines of the fabric. From the corner of his eye, Yoochun sees the exchange, hides his laughter in his thick coat as he untangle the long piece of cloth from his shoulders, wrapping the scarf around Junsu’s neck.
A week from saying ‘I do’, Yoochun seems like a changed man, healthy and glowing , skin so smooth Junsu wants to poke the other man’s cheek just to feel if he was real. Everything is perfectly in place or as perfect as it gets, all that are left are the tiny amendments needed to be made to the wedding dress, flecks of gold to be added below the waist line, crystals embroidering the busty neckline, and everything would be clinch so that it would accentuate the model’s body line.
Velvet curtains separate the two once inside, Yoochun sitting with patience as he waits to see his bride, Junsu attempting to string the corset into a bow. He tries a little too hard, but only because the waist line is too tiny for any woman- yes, even a supermodel- to breathe properly in, and then something went wrong- a pop is heard- and then Junsu is thrown backwards on the ground.
The noise startles Yoochun, who quickly rushes in to find his bride, with her chest barely covered, lying on top of Junsu. The groom swallows a thick lump in his throat, bends down on one knee, and then Junsu is surprise to find Yoochun offering him the helping hand first.
It’s D-day, and Junsu isn’t really sure how he is feeling now that the big moment is finally here, butterflies in his stomach or ants in his pants, Yoochun smiling and DaHae posing for the cameras. Every single flower and dish has been inspected under his scrutiny, there is nothing misplaced, champagne roses and white lilies arranged to fit the occasion, drinks and finger food going around the reception, and no one that isn’t supposed to be here is found anywhere near the vicinity of the white chapel.
There are a lot more cameras than Junsu would like, he have been watching them, counting and recounting when he feels as though the cameramen might have multiplied. His paranoia of camera and filming only spikes whenever he sees Yoochun looking uncomfortably at the camera lens while DaHae pretends to kiss him on cheek.
Junsu smiles a little when Yoochun spots him amongst the crowd, but he doesn’t stay around long enough for the groom to start a conversation, too busy running around checking and rechecking for perfection. It’s about to be noon, and as soon as the clock strikes twelve, the tower bell will signal for the start of the ceremony. Friends and family takes up the first few rows, but Junsu manages to get a decent seat on the pew on the far left side with the groom’s family.
Little girls in little white dresses, colorful wreaths on their heads, flower petals sprinkling from their hands, skips and dances down the aisle as they lead the way for the bride. The music is on cue, step by step, following the leading lady’s footstep. It’s a symphony of a sound as Yoochun takes her hand. The priest opens his thick leather bounded book, recites old tradition and forgotten values, and then looks up from behind his circular frames, not at all expecting for a single soul to deny this union.
He’s not, Junsu thinks, he’s not looking at you, but oh Yoochun is looking straight at Junsu, eyes calm as the ocean and smooth as a sail, before whispering his ‘I do’. Breath caught in his throat, Junsu fails to realize how deathly silent the chapel has become, everyone, too, holding their breath, expecting, expecting-
“I…I- can’t do it... I’m so sorry, Yoochun-ah.”
Tears are on DaHae’s face, - alligator tears, Junsu thinks- as she picks up her heavy, heavy gown, scurrying off in those ridiculously expensive heels, loud whispers in the crowd of family and guests, misery and company, more headlines for the reporters to make.
There are too many movements, the pushing and shoving of hands and arms and high heels against waxy leather shoes, Yoochun is just standing there, too shellshock to even move, and Junsu wants to get near him, hold him close, wipe the invisible tears rolling down his cheeks- but to no avail.
Some things just aren’t meant to be.
His first wedding ruined,- not Yoochun’s but Junsu’s- it’s the first time he has not manage to complete a service, tie the red thread of fate between two lovers, and it should hurt, his reputation is on the line but Junsu is somewhat relieved, he can finally breathe. Yoochun doesn’t deserve to put aside by fashion and photo shoots, DaHae is gorgeous and young, she isn’t ready to be tied down, and if they were to be united, a separation would have ultimately occurred, and Yoochun just doesn’t deserve that.
New Year has just passed, and with it the wedding of the year, scandal of last year, really. Business is slowing down thanks to the cold, too much snow and ice for weddings cakes, so Junsu sits inside his little shop alone, munching on his bag of potato chips, not at all expecting the ringing of the wind chime as a man enters the front door.
With an umbrella underneath his hand, Yoochun is leaning all of his weight on his left foot, right foot crossing from behind, and his eyes are smiling, grinning with something Junsu can’t exactly pinpoint, but he knows that look, of mischief and wonder.
“I decided not to ever plan my own wedding again. It’s going to be my New Year’s Resolution. ” Reaching into the depth of his coat pocket, Yoochun pulls out a pair of tickets, a destination with warm sand, sparkling water, and many many coconut trees. “How does an early vacation sound?”
Junsu runs a small business, one where he can hear the chirping of mated doves as they take flight, the echoes of little bells ringing in harmony, the popping of champagne bottles, tin cans rolling erratically along a ‘just married’ plate.
This is his fourth anniversary, and for the first time since he has rendered his service, Junsu is not in his shop, he is in a plane, heading for BoraBora, with Yoochun.
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A/N: Hello, don't kill me yet though..I've been feeling under the weather lately, it has been thunder storming for a week straight, work and life being mean to me, so no updates on pitch perfect this week. really sorry >__''< i needed to vent a little and writing helps. this was suppose to be a drabble at first.. and then a ficlet... and then my otp demanded to have more time with each other so there you go lol
In other news, yoosu anniversary is right around the corner! If you are good at making graphics/visuals.. begging for someone to help me make one for my first ever fanmix X'D and... I might be taking request/plot bunniehs (for 729) so if u want to read kinky!yoosu, au!yoosu, broken!yoosu , do let me know and i'll see what i can do. :)