stained glass: chapter 3
stained glass: chapter 3
yunho ♥ jaejoong | yoochun ♥ fc | jaejoong ♥ bi/jihoon | bff!jaechun
romance | drama | angst | AU | R
+3,450 words
EDITED with the beta-ed version. much love to yaoi_hoshi. ♥ :D
summary: of drag queens and crime; lust denied and fulfilled.
warning: contains drag-queens!jaechun, mafia!homin and violence.
[ prologue][ one][ two]
--
Three;
“Fucking bastard.”
Jaejoong hissed as he wrenched the small towel in the ice-cold water in the plastic basin, putting his energy and rage in his task until his knuckles almost turned white. Yoochun’s stifled sobs permeated the air, punctuated by his deep-drawn breaths as he lay sprawled on his stomach, completely nude and shaking.
“I-I’m sorry, hyung… it wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to end up like this,” Yoochun pleaded, fingers milking the sheet tightly as if it would lessen the pain. Jaejoong huffed angrily, turning to wipe the damp towel across Yoochun’s back, carefully moving it downward towards the torn rosette between his cheeks.
“Lift up a bit,” Jae ordered, nudging Yoochun with his clenched knuckles. Yoochun moved clumsily, left knee slipping on its footing as it tried to provide leverage. A tiny sob came out from his mouth, quickly muffled by the pillow. The sight of Yoochun holding back his tears pained Jaejoong’s heart, and he fought to keep his emotion in check.
“This is fucking rape,” he hissed between tight lips when he saw the torn, blood-crusted skin. His nose flared in anger as he dabbed the damp towel at the spot as softly as he can, cleaning it as best as he could. How could this happen? He was gone for less than an hour, and in that short period of time, Yoochun had managed to get himself hurt by his own ‘boyfriend’. Jaejoong snorted: what kind of boyfriend hurts his lover like this? He swore he would kill the man when he saw him next time. The bastard was a fucking rapist.
“It’s not rape. He didn’t mean to-“ Yoochun’s voice sounded so far away, as if it was being pulled out from his soul unwillingly in an attempt to distort the truth. Jaejoong gritted his teeth as he cut Yoochun’s reply short, face flushed hot in disappointment.
“Oh yes it was! He forced it on you even when you told him to stop, and if that wasn’t rape, what was it then?”
“He was…I asked for it.”
“Really? You asked to be fucked raw till you bleed? God help me this is fucking-“
“Hyung, please-“
“-stupid! He forced himself on you, Chunnieyah. Can’t you see that?”
“He didn’t mean to...he really didn’t mean…” Yoochun muttered, the end of his sentence trailing away into silence. Jaejoong sighed, one hand reaching for the ointment he had put on the floor next to the bed. Dipping two fingers in the cool gel, he applied it on the wounded rosette gently, biting his lips when he heard Yoochun’s sharp intake of breath.
“Chunnie, listen to yourself. You can’t even say that with conviction. And look at you, my friend, lying on your stomach, injured and in pain. I know it’s your right to choose your own lover, but having someone who doesn’t know how to treat you with respect isn’t the right way to go… no matter how much happiness he had promised you, hurting yourself to get there is just not worth it. Trust me.”
“I love him.”
“Still isn’t the right reason to let him hurt you.”
“Hyung…”
“Hmm?”
“You don’t have to…do this if…if you don’t want to.”
“Hell yes I don’t want to, but who will if I don’t?”
Jaejoong heard the tattered sobs, and didn’t have to look to see Yoochun’s heartbroken face. Yoochun didn’t reply, but he shifted away from Jaejoong’s touch when he moved to apply more ointment.
“Chunnie...”
“He loves me, hyung. He said he does. We love each other,” Yoochun tried to reassure Jaejoong, but his voice was too broken to be anything near reassuring. Jaejoong had to wipe the tear falling down his own cheek, and shut his eyes when more threatened to flood out.
“Then why did he hurt you like this? This wasn’t the first time, Chunnie...God, how much more damage are you going to let him do to you just because he said he loves you?”
The answer did not come as quick as Jaejoong would have liked, and certainly not in the way he wanted Yoochun to answer.
“As much as I have to. He loves me, hyung… no one… no one ever said they love me.”
“You know I love you. I do, Yoochunah.”
“Not the same. You don’t love me the way Donghoon-oppa loves me. You can’t love me that way, hyung. You never will, we both knew that.”
“And that’s your reason for letting him treat you like shit?! He doesn’t treat you like a lover, Chun, he treats you like a fucking whore! Listen to yourself for once, you even called him oppa outside the club. He knows you’re a man… but does he treat you like one? If he really does want to be with you and love you for the rest of your fucking life, then why does he keep coming to you asking for sex in a dirty alleyway? If he really loved you, he wouldn't rape you, Chun. He’d treat you with respect, with dignity…like he would treat a human, at least. Fuck Chunnie, how can you be such an idiot?!”
Jaejoong’s outburst shocked both of them, because he rarely ever gave in to his anger like that. Yoochun cowered, pulling away from Jaejoong to roll to the far side of the bed, plastering his front to the wall and cocooning himself in his blanket. Jaejoong stood up and threw the damp towel on the floor, the flop sound breaking a note in Yoochun’s heartbroken cries. Jaejoong looked down at his feet, letting his hair cover his tear-drenched eyes, his heart aching as if the ribs were squeezing the life out of it.
He didn’t have to deal with this, and neither did Yoochun. Yoochun deserved someone better, someone who could show him that he didn't have to grovel and throw his self-esteem to the wind in order to be loved. Someone who would love Yoochun for the lovely, kind-hearted person he was, and for the sweet smile and affection he gave without restrain to those who wanted it. Yoochun was vulnerable, and absolutely naïve and genteel despite his rough past. It was his charm, and also his weakness. He never learned, and when he did, it was all the wrong things to pick up on. Too bad Donghoon could see this messed-up part of Yoochun and manipulate it to his advantage, promising a future to the broken young man.
If only Jaejoong could make Yoochun see how wrong everything was! He bit his lips, almost to the point of drawing blood, as he cried for his friend’s fate and for his own. They both wanted the same things, with the only difference that Yoochun was still clinging to scrappy bits of hope, while Jaejoong had thrown his hope away when life turned its back on him and abandoned him in that seedy part of neon-lighted town. Jaejoong knew he could never fulfill his dreams, not as long as he lived like this.
Hopeless and helpless, Jaejoong never felt as desperate as he was then.
“I’m sorry, hyung… please. Don’t hate me. I’m sorry,” Yoochun pleaded, and Jaejoong snapped his head up to see Yoochun getting out of his blanket and scooting closer, one trembling hand reaching out for him to hold. Jaejoong dropped down to the edge of the bed and pulled Yoochun into his tight embrace, kissing the top of his head as he cradled the younger man in his arms. They cried together for the longest of time, Yoochun sobbing on Jaejoong’s chest and Jaejoong sniffling against Yoochun’s mop of hair. Jaejoong thought they made quite a pitiful pair.
“You know I could never hate you. Don’t say that,” he said after a while, smoothing a hand down Yoochun’s arm. Yoochun whimpered as he felt Jaejoong’s tear-laden voice rumbled in the man’s chest.
“I love you, hyung. I’m sorry.”
Jaejoong nodded, burying his nose deeper, “Hush now. Just sleep, okay. Don’t worry about anything. I’m here.”
*
The bad thing about the past was that it didn’t stay in the past, Yunho mused, flinching as he turned his body sideways, trying to get as comfortable as he could with a few broken ribs. They hurt like fuck, even when he was off dreaming about someone he thought he would never see again. He glanced at his bandaged chest, soaked red with blood and smelling of antiseptic and Chinese medication someone had put on him when he was passed out. Moving his left shoulder, Yunho winced when the dislocated bone screamed agony at him. He recalled with severe clarity how he dove to the ground while dodging the storming bullets, landing on the tarred road with the sound of one (un)lucky shot ripping his skin and crashing into his ribs, missing his heart by mere centimeters and leaving a nasty wound on the side of his pecs.
Jaejoong. All the while he was battling a group of 20 and more Japanese yakuza who decided to play dirty at one of their many business exchanges, the only thing that was plaguing Yunho’s mind was the jagged memory of Kim Jaejoong of his high school past.
He remembered his eyes, of course. No one could really forget those eyes after seeing them. They had haunted his dreams for years, giving him that bittersweet taste of his happy past. Yunho realized he had always pinned the thought of Jaejoong with his memories of what used to be. His family, his dreams, his innocence - all shattered and swiped away by the wind.
Seven years had passed since then. Things had changed - he had changed - but somehow, those eyes stayed the same. Even dolled up with fake lashes and eyeshadow, those pretty brown-colored irises stayed as they had always been, seemingly able to pierce deep into his soul with merely a glance. They still did, if their meeting of two nights ago was any indication. Yunho could recall standing rooted at the door, watching Hyungnim laughing with Jaejoong, and feeling as if he was that same scared boy again, a peeping-tom to something forbidden.
He remembered how he used to spy on Jaejoong whenever he had a chance to, skipping his tuition classes on every Wednesday because that was when Jaejoong and his band would practice in the rarely occupied Music Room behind the gym. They used to call themselves Smoking Hazards, an apt name considering how all of them smoked like chimneys and looked totally dangerous. Jaejoong looked extremely lethal, with his against-the-rules dirty blonde hair and his gorgeous smile, bright in its splendor and totally inviting. Yunho’s heart thumped against his hurting ribcage as he recalled the sound of Jaejoong’s cheerful laughter and how the boy would cover his mouth when he did. He was so into Jaejoong then it was not even funny.
Yunho cringed when the throbbing pain in his side escalated, and he curled his fingers onto his palm, nails digging deep into skin as he bit his lips. All this reminiscing seemed to put his body in much more pain, but damn if he could stop it. Jaejoong, Jaejoong, Jaejoong. That guy had practically plastered himself inside Yunho’s mind for the time being, he thought as he groaned again.
He remembered how he would hide behind one of the lockers, pathetically trying to coil himself up into the tiniest human-ball he could as he listened to them playing music - to Jaejoong singing to their music. He knew, even then, that he would never forget Jaejoong’s voice. Despite them being a mainly rock band, Jaejoong used to sing soft ballads too, humming to himself when the band took a break or while he was walking home afterwards, alone and unguarded. Yunho knew this because he was such a stalker fan then, trailing a bit far behind as he followed Jaejoong home, wanting to see and hear his ‘idol’ as much as he could. He had fallen in love with that voice and more with the person who owned it, even vowing to confess his admiration after their graduation.
He never got the chance to. After what happened to his family, Yunho dropped out of school, and he was too distraught (plus all out penniless) from losing both his parents and his younger sister to continue schooling again. In his lost, confused way, he had somehow managed to become a part of Korea’s mafia chain, with Ji Hoon-hyungnim as his boss and gang leader. Yunho was homeless when the man found him scurrying away behind the garbage cans, scared like a rat would when it sees a preying cat because he thought Ji Hoon was one of those men who had killed his whole family. It turned out that he wasn’t, of course, and he'd stretched out a helping hand that Yunho would be grateful of for the rest of his life.
Hyungnim taught him the way of his new life, scrapping away what bits of innocence Yunho had left when the man showed him how to fight unwanted pain. He had always been a fast learner, and within months he had managed to shed off his past self - no more chubby, bespectacled Jung Yunho who aced all exams and dreamt of becoming an inventor. Yunho prided himself in being one of the group’s best fighters, his quick feet and sharp punch known to bring enemies down in a groaning mess. He was better than the weak, puny boy he had been all his life before the tragic string of events.
Hyungnim also gave him a chance to have something resembling a family again, with his band of brothers that swore in the name of loyalty and deep trust. East Dragon was his sole purpose of living, and he was determined to protect this ‘family’ with all his strength and life.
But nothing could make him forget how he had been Jaejoong’s secret ‘fanboy’ for most part of high school life. Secret, because no one knew about it and Jaejoong had no idea that Yunho even existed. He was in love with Jaejoong back then, but of course there’s no use admitting it now that they have moved on from where they were. Yunho doubted they were both the same Yunho and Jaejoong they had been, what with Jaejoong working as a drag queen in Aknyeo and him being in the mafia. Hell, he had never thought Jaejoong would end up where he did, but the same could be said about him too, and Yunho guessed things just happened and that was it. Jaejoong hadn't given any inkling that he remotely remembered they had gone to the same school, when they had met two nights ago, and Yunho did not think reminding him would do any of them good. Especially since Jaejoong was Hyungnim’s ‘girl’ at the moment, and from the way Hyungnim had warned them all to treat ‘Jaejin-noonim’ with respect, he guessed he should shove his memory of Jaejoong with the rest of his memories of the past - into the dusty, forgotten box at the darkest corner of his mind. It was for the better, but damn if his heart did not feel betrayed and saddened at the thought.
Throwing an annoyed look at the wounded part of his body, Yunho willed it to stop hurting, hoping mindlessly that he was psychic enough to school his pain away. He growled when his body refused to listen, but instead hiked up the pain by an agonizing notch.
“Stop looking so damn pissed, hyung. Got you right for trying to be a hero for the gang,” Changmin muttered from somewhere across the room, most probably from the good ol’ leather couch. Yunho turned onto his back again, breathing hard from the small movement and cussing aloud just for the hell of it.
“Shut up. I saved your scrawny ass, you little wanker.”
“Rich, hyung, rich. Getting all bitchy now that the painkiller wore off, eh?”
Yunho groaned as another wave of nauseating pain traveled down his body, making him shudder.
“Fuck yes. I need more of that painkilling shit. Be a dear little brother and go get me some, will you?”
“I would if I could get up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I got twenty-three stitches on my stomach, hyung. It was ripped, and I’m not saying that in a narcissistic sort of way,” Changmin groaned, and Yunho immediately realized how the boy’s voice sounded weaker than he ever remembered it to be.
“You got shot too?”
“Nu-uh. Someone went all samurai on me and cut my body with a blade after some coward shot you down. So you didn’t actually save me, hyung, because I saved myself - and you - by being a ninja and snapping his head and ending his life just after he gutted me. Argh, fuck it. I can’t even be sarcastic without feeling like my body is going to snap into two.”
“Sorry.”
“None of that sorry shit. This wasn’t your fault. They played dirty. Hyungnim is goddamn pissed. If I were them, I’d seppuku myself before he gets to me.”
“That would be an understatement.”
“I agree. I so don’t want to be their boss right now,” Changmin chuckled; his voice trailed off before he groaned in what Yunho supposed was another onslaught of pain.
“Hey, calm down kid.”
“I’m not a kid, so stop calling me one. Oh oh oh! I think the drug’s kicking in. I feel numb. Heh.”
“Lucky you.”
“Hyung.”
“Hmm?”
“I thought you did good. They could have done more damage to our group if you didn’t take that first bullet.”
Yunho let out a harsh breath, not quite agreeing with Changmin’s remark. There was a question that lingered in his mind, but he was afraid to ask it, lest it made him face the reality he was not willing to accept.
“Changmin-ah.”
“Hmm?”
“How…how’s everyone else?”
There was a long, stretched silence that Yunho did not appreciate one tiny bit. He knew something was wrong even before Changmin spoke out, his voice coming out just a little louder than a whisper.
“We lost Binwoo-hyung. And Ha-ryu.”
“Fuck.”, Yunho breathed out, his pain now secondary to the news of his gang-brothers’ death. “How?”
“Ha-ryu was shot. Straight into his head, hyung. I saw it, he was right in front of me when it happened.”, Changmin took a shuddering breath before continuing, voice getting shakier, “I didn’t know how Binwoo-hyung died, but Dongwook-hyung was with him when they got him. He was too stricken to speak, and no one has the heart to ask him anything more than what we could guess. I didn’t see his body, if you want to ask how he looked like dead.”
“No, I wasn’t going to ask that,” Yunho answered quietly, moving to sit up. The pain was there, but he refused to acknowledge it more than the heartbreaking thought of their lost brothers.
“Min.”
“Yea?”
“Are you…are you alright? Ha-ryu…” he couldn’t continue, worry clogging up his throat. He saw Changmin slung his arm up to cover his eyes, and he pitied the younger man for being there to witness a brother losing his life. He wished he could have spared Changmin from the scarring experience, but knowing their life, there was no doubt the boy would have his own share of blood and tears to live with anytime soon. He just hoped it had not been this soon.
“He… ndied for the group. It wasn’t in vain. I can accept it if I keep thinking that. I… I want to think that.”
They stayed in silence, listening to each other breathing. Yunho thought Changmin had fallen asleep, but then the younger man broke the stillness with an almost quiet call of his name.
“Hyung.”
“Mnn?”
“I’m glad… you’re alive,” Changmin said almost inaudibly before drifting into sleep, his soft snores punctuating his breaths.
Yunho looked into the darkness, biting his lips as he pondered on his past, present and future. His thoughts were a mess, but despite the haze, a pretty face was there, dimly giving hope to his struggling soul.
“I’m glad I’m alive too,” he whispered to no one in particular, as tears trailed down his cheeks, hastily wiped away with the back of one hand. Death offered a sweet promise of peace, but he guessed he had always been a coward. Just the fact that he was breathing gave him enough reason to continue doing so, because, who knew, maybe there was still a chance for him.
He needed the hope.
--[TBC]
yunho ♥ jaejoong | yoochun ♥ fc | jaejoong ♥ bi/jihoon | bff!jaechun
romance | drama | angst | AU | R
+3,450 words
EDITED with the beta-ed version. much love to yaoi_hoshi. ♥ :D
summary: of drag queens and crime; lust denied and fulfilled.
warning: contains drag-queens!jaechun, mafia!homin and violence.
[ prologue][ one][ two]
--
Three;
“Fucking bastard.”
Jaejoong hissed as he wrenched the small towel in the ice-cold water in the plastic basin, putting his energy and rage in his task until his knuckles almost turned white. Yoochun’s stifled sobs permeated the air, punctuated by his deep-drawn breaths as he lay sprawled on his stomach, completely nude and shaking.
“I-I’m sorry, hyung… it wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to end up like this,” Yoochun pleaded, fingers milking the sheet tightly as if it would lessen the pain. Jaejoong huffed angrily, turning to wipe the damp towel across Yoochun’s back, carefully moving it downward towards the torn rosette between his cheeks.
“Lift up a bit,” Jae ordered, nudging Yoochun with his clenched knuckles. Yoochun moved clumsily, left knee slipping on its footing as it tried to provide leverage. A tiny sob came out from his mouth, quickly muffled by the pillow. The sight of Yoochun holding back his tears pained Jaejoong’s heart, and he fought to keep his emotion in check.
“This is fucking rape,” he hissed between tight lips when he saw the torn, blood-crusted skin. His nose flared in anger as he dabbed the damp towel at the spot as softly as he can, cleaning it as best as he could. How could this happen? He was gone for less than an hour, and in that short period of time, Yoochun had managed to get himself hurt by his own ‘boyfriend’. Jaejoong snorted: what kind of boyfriend hurts his lover like this? He swore he would kill the man when he saw him next time. The bastard was a fucking rapist.
“It’s not rape. He didn’t mean to-“ Yoochun’s voice sounded so far away, as if it was being pulled out from his soul unwillingly in an attempt to distort the truth. Jaejoong gritted his teeth as he cut Yoochun’s reply short, face flushed hot in disappointment.
“Oh yes it was! He forced it on you even when you told him to stop, and if that wasn’t rape, what was it then?”
“He was…I asked for it.”
“Really? You asked to be fucked raw till you bleed? God help me this is fucking-“
“Hyung, please-“
“-stupid! He forced himself on you, Chunnieyah. Can’t you see that?”
“He didn’t mean to...he really didn’t mean…” Yoochun muttered, the end of his sentence trailing away into silence. Jaejoong sighed, one hand reaching for the ointment he had put on the floor next to the bed. Dipping two fingers in the cool gel, he applied it on the wounded rosette gently, biting his lips when he heard Yoochun’s sharp intake of breath.
“Chunnie, listen to yourself. You can’t even say that with conviction. And look at you, my friend, lying on your stomach, injured and in pain. I know it’s your right to choose your own lover, but having someone who doesn’t know how to treat you with respect isn’t the right way to go… no matter how much happiness he had promised you, hurting yourself to get there is just not worth it. Trust me.”
“I love him.”
“Still isn’t the right reason to let him hurt you.”
“Hyung…”
“Hmm?”
“You don’t have to…do this if…if you don’t want to.”
“Hell yes I don’t want to, but who will if I don’t?”
Jaejoong heard the tattered sobs, and didn’t have to look to see Yoochun’s heartbroken face. Yoochun didn’t reply, but he shifted away from Jaejoong’s touch when he moved to apply more ointment.
“Chunnie...”
“He loves me, hyung. He said he does. We love each other,” Yoochun tried to reassure Jaejoong, but his voice was too broken to be anything near reassuring. Jaejoong had to wipe the tear falling down his own cheek, and shut his eyes when more threatened to flood out.
“Then why did he hurt you like this? This wasn’t the first time, Chunnie...God, how much more damage are you going to let him do to you just because he said he loves you?”
The answer did not come as quick as Jaejoong would have liked, and certainly not in the way he wanted Yoochun to answer.
“As much as I have to. He loves me, hyung… no one… no one ever said they love me.”
“You know I love you. I do, Yoochunah.”
“Not the same. You don’t love me the way Donghoon-oppa loves me. You can’t love me that way, hyung. You never will, we both knew that.”
“And that’s your reason for letting him treat you like shit?! He doesn’t treat you like a lover, Chun, he treats you like a fucking whore! Listen to yourself for once, you even called him oppa outside the club. He knows you’re a man… but does he treat you like one? If he really does want to be with you and love you for the rest of your fucking life, then why does he keep coming to you asking for sex in a dirty alleyway? If he really loved you, he wouldn't rape you, Chun. He’d treat you with respect, with dignity…like he would treat a human, at least. Fuck Chunnie, how can you be such an idiot?!”
Jaejoong’s outburst shocked both of them, because he rarely ever gave in to his anger like that. Yoochun cowered, pulling away from Jaejoong to roll to the far side of the bed, plastering his front to the wall and cocooning himself in his blanket. Jaejoong stood up and threw the damp towel on the floor, the flop sound breaking a note in Yoochun’s heartbroken cries. Jaejoong looked down at his feet, letting his hair cover his tear-drenched eyes, his heart aching as if the ribs were squeezing the life out of it.
He didn’t have to deal with this, and neither did Yoochun. Yoochun deserved someone better, someone who could show him that he didn't have to grovel and throw his self-esteem to the wind in order to be loved. Someone who would love Yoochun for the lovely, kind-hearted person he was, and for the sweet smile and affection he gave without restrain to those who wanted it. Yoochun was vulnerable, and absolutely naïve and genteel despite his rough past. It was his charm, and also his weakness. He never learned, and when he did, it was all the wrong things to pick up on. Too bad Donghoon could see this messed-up part of Yoochun and manipulate it to his advantage, promising a future to the broken young man.
If only Jaejoong could make Yoochun see how wrong everything was! He bit his lips, almost to the point of drawing blood, as he cried for his friend’s fate and for his own. They both wanted the same things, with the only difference that Yoochun was still clinging to scrappy bits of hope, while Jaejoong had thrown his hope away when life turned its back on him and abandoned him in that seedy part of neon-lighted town. Jaejoong knew he could never fulfill his dreams, not as long as he lived like this.
Hopeless and helpless, Jaejoong never felt as desperate as he was then.
“I’m sorry, hyung… please. Don’t hate me. I’m sorry,” Yoochun pleaded, and Jaejoong snapped his head up to see Yoochun getting out of his blanket and scooting closer, one trembling hand reaching out for him to hold. Jaejoong dropped down to the edge of the bed and pulled Yoochun into his tight embrace, kissing the top of his head as he cradled the younger man in his arms. They cried together for the longest of time, Yoochun sobbing on Jaejoong’s chest and Jaejoong sniffling against Yoochun’s mop of hair. Jaejoong thought they made quite a pitiful pair.
“You know I could never hate you. Don’t say that,” he said after a while, smoothing a hand down Yoochun’s arm. Yoochun whimpered as he felt Jaejoong’s tear-laden voice rumbled in the man’s chest.
“I love you, hyung. I’m sorry.”
Jaejoong nodded, burying his nose deeper, “Hush now. Just sleep, okay. Don’t worry about anything. I’m here.”
*
The bad thing about the past was that it didn’t stay in the past, Yunho mused, flinching as he turned his body sideways, trying to get as comfortable as he could with a few broken ribs. They hurt like fuck, even when he was off dreaming about someone he thought he would never see again. He glanced at his bandaged chest, soaked red with blood and smelling of antiseptic and Chinese medication someone had put on him when he was passed out. Moving his left shoulder, Yunho winced when the dislocated bone screamed agony at him. He recalled with severe clarity how he dove to the ground while dodging the storming bullets, landing on the tarred road with the sound of one (un)lucky shot ripping his skin and crashing into his ribs, missing his heart by mere centimeters and leaving a nasty wound on the side of his pecs.
Jaejoong. All the while he was battling a group of 20 and more Japanese yakuza who decided to play dirty at one of their many business exchanges, the only thing that was plaguing Yunho’s mind was the jagged memory of Kim Jaejoong of his high school past.
He remembered his eyes, of course. No one could really forget those eyes after seeing them. They had haunted his dreams for years, giving him that bittersweet taste of his happy past. Yunho realized he had always pinned the thought of Jaejoong with his memories of what used to be. His family, his dreams, his innocence - all shattered and swiped away by the wind.
Seven years had passed since then. Things had changed - he had changed - but somehow, those eyes stayed the same. Even dolled up with fake lashes and eyeshadow, those pretty brown-colored irises stayed as they had always been, seemingly able to pierce deep into his soul with merely a glance. They still did, if their meeting of two nights ago was any indication. Yunho could recall standing rooted at the door, watching Hyungnim laughing with Jaejoong, and feeling as if he was that same scared boy again, a peeping-tom to something forbidden.
He remembered how he used to spy on Jaejoong whenever he had a chance to, skipping his tuition classes on every Wednesday because that was when Jaejoong and his band would practice in the rarely occupied Music Room behind the gym. They used to call themselves Smoking Hazards, an apt name considering how all of them smoked like chimneys and looked totally dangerous. Jaejoong looked extremely lethal, with his against-the-rules dirty blonde hair and his gorgeous smile, bright in its splendor and totally inviting. Yunho’s heart thumped against his hurting ribcage as he recalled the sound of Jaejoong’s cheerful laughter and how the boy would cover his mouth when he did. He was so into Jaejoong then it was not even funny.
Yunho cringed when the throbbing pain in his side escalated, and he curled his fingers onto his palm, nails digging deep into skin as he bit his lips. All this reminiscing seemed to put his body in much more pain, but damn if he could stop it. Jaejoong, Jaejoong, Jaejoong. That guy had practically plastered himself inside Yunho’s mind for the time being, he thought as he groaned again.
He remembered how he would hide behind one of the lockers, pathetically trying to coil himself up into the tiniest human-ball he could as he listened to them playing music - to Jaejoong singing to their music. He knew, even then, that he would never forget Jaejoong’s voice. Despite them being a mainly rock band, Jaejoong used to sing soft ballads too, humming to himself when the band took a break or while he was walking home afterwards, alone and unguarded. Yunho knew this because he was such a stalker fan then, trailing a bit far behind as he followed Jaejoong home, wanting to see and hear his ‘idol’ as much as he could. He had fallen in love with that voice and more with the person who owned it, even vowing to confess his admiration after their graduation.
He never got the chance to. After what happened to his family, Yunho dropped out of school, and he was too distraught (plus all out penniless) from losing both his parents and his younger sister to continue schooling again. In his lost, confused way, he had somehow managed to become a part of Korea’s mafia chain, with Ji Hoon-hyungnim as his boss and gang leader. Yunho was homeless when the man found him scurrying away behind the garbage cans, scared like a rat would when it sees a preying cat because he thought Ji Hoon was one of those men who had killed his whole family. It turned out that he wasn’t, of course, and he'd stretched out a helping hand that Yunho would be grateful of for the rest of his life.
Hyungnim taught him the way of his new life, scrapping away what bits of innocence Yunho had left when the man showed him how to fight unwanted pain. He had always been a fast learner, and within months he had managed to shed off his past self - no more chubby, bespectacled Jung Yunho who aced all exams and dreamt of becoming an inventor. Yunho prided himself in being one of the group’s best fighters, his quick feet and sharp punch known to bring enemies down in a groaning mess. He was better than the weak, puny boy he had been all his life before the tragic string of events.
Hyungnim also gave him a chance to have something resembling a family again, with his band of brothers that swore in the name of loyalty and deep trust. East Dragon was his sole purpose of living, and he was determined to protect this ‘family’ with all his strength and life.
But nothing could make him forget how he had been Jaejoong’s secret ‘fanboy’ for most part of high school life. Secret, because no one knew about it and Jaejoong had no idea that Yunho even existed. He was in love with Jaejoong back then, but of course there’s no use admitting it now that they have moved on from where they were. Yunho doubted they were both the same Yunho and Jaejoong they had been, what with Jaejoong working as a drag queen in Aknyeo and him being in the mafia. Hell, he had never thought Jaejoong would end up where he did, but the same could be said about him too, and Yunho guessed things just happened and that was it. Jaejoong hadn't given any inkling that he remotely remembered they had gone to the same school, when they had met two nights ago, and Yunho did not think reminding him would do any of them good. Especially since Jaejoong was Hyungnim’s ‘girl’ at the moment, and from the way Hyungnim had warned them all to treat ‘Jaejin-noonim’ with respect, he guessed he should shove his memory of Jaejoong with the rest of his memories of the past - into the dusty, forgotten box at the darkest corner of his mind. It was for the better, but damn if his heart did not feel betrayed and saddened at the thought.
Throwing an annoyed look at the wounded part of his body, Yunho willed it to stop hurting, hoping mindlessly that he was psychic enough to school his pain away. He growled when his body refused to listen, but instead hiked up the pain by an agonizing notch.
“Stop looking so damn pissed, hyung. Got you right for trying to be a hero for the gang,” Changmin muttered from somewhere across the room, most probably from the good ol’ leather couch. Yunho turned onto his back again, breathing hard from the small movement and cussing aloud just for the hell of it.
“Shut up. I saved your scrawny ass, you little wanker.”
“Rich, hyung, rich. Getting all bitchy now that the painkiller wore off, eh?”
Yunho groaned as another wave of nauseating pain traveled down his body, making him shudder.
“Fuck yes. I need more of that painkilling shit. Be a dear little brother and go get me some, will you?”
“I would if I could get up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I got twenty-three stitches on my stomach, hyung. It was ripped, and I’m not saying that in a narcissistic sort of way,” Changmin groaned, and Yunho immediately realized how the boy’s voice sounded weaker than he ever remembered it to be.
“You got shot too?”
“Nu-uh. Someone went all samurai on me and cut my body with a blade after some coward shot you down. So you didn’t actually save me, hyung, because I saved myself - and you - by being a ninja and snapping his head and ending his life just after he gutted me. Argh, fuck it. I can’t even be sarcastic without feeling like my body is going to snap into two.”
“Sorry.”
“None of that sorry shit. This wasn’t your fault. They played dirty. Hyungnim is goddamn pissed. If I were them, I’d seppuku myself before he gets to me.”
“That would be an understatement.”
“I agree. I so don’t want to be their boss right now,” Changmin chuckled; his voice trailed off before he groaned in what Yunho supposed was another onslaught of pain.
“Hey, calm down kid.”
“I’m not a kid, so stop calling me one. Oh oh oh! I think the drug’s kicking in. I feel numb. Heh.”
“Lucky you.”
“Hyung.”
“Hmm?”
“I thought you did good. They could have done more damage to our group if you didn’t take that first bullet.”
Yunho let out a harsh breath, not quite agreeing with Changmin’s remark. There was a question that lingered in his mind, but he was afraid to ask it, lest it made him face the reality he was not willing to accept.
“Changmin-ah.”
“Hmm?”
“How…how’s everyone else?”
There was a long, stretched silence that Yunho did not appreciate one tiny bit. He knew something was wrong even before Changmin spoke out, his voice coming out just a little louder than a whisper.
“We lost Binwoo-hyung. And Ha-ryu.”
“Fuck.”, Yunho breathed out, his pain now secondary to the news of his gang-brothers’ death. “How?”
“Ha-ryu was shot. Straight into his head, hyung. I saw it, he was right in front of me when it happened.”, Changmin took a shuddering breath before continuing, voice getting shakier, “I didn’t know how Binwoo-hyung died, but Dongwook-hyung was with him when they got him. He was too stricken to speak, and no one has the heart to ask him anything more than what we could guess. I didn’t see his body, if you want to ask how he looked like dead.”
“No, I wasn’t going to ask that,” Yunho answered quietly, moving to sit up. The pain was there, but he refused to acknowledge it more than the heartbreaking thought of their lost brothers.
“Min.”
“Yea?”
“Are you…are you alright? Ha-ryu…” he couldn’t continue, worry clogging up his throat. He saw Changmin slung his arm up to cover his eyes, and he pitied the younger man for being there to witness a brother losing his life. He wished he could have spared Changmin from the scarring experience, but knowing their life, there was no doubt the boy would have his own share of blood and tears to live with anytime soon. He just hoped it had not been this soon.
“He… ndied for the group. It wasn’t in vain. I can accept it if I keep thinking that. I… I want to think that.”
They stayed in silence, listening to each other breathing. Yunho thought Changmin had fallen asleep, but then the younger man broke the stillness with an almost quiet call of his name.
“Hyung.”
“Mnn?”
“I’m glad… you’re alive,” Changmin said almost inaudibly before drifting into sleep, his soft snores punctuating his breaths.
Yunho looked into the darkness, biting his lips as he pondered on his past, present and future. His thoughts were a mess, but despite the haze, a pretty face was there, dimly giving hope to his struggling soul.
“I’m glad I’m alive too,” he whispered to no one in particular, as tears trailed down his cheeks, hastily wiped away with the back of one hand. Death offered a sweet promise of peace, but he guessed he had always been a coward. Just the fact that he was breathing gave him enough reason to continue doing so, because, who knew, maybe there was still a chance for him.
He needed the hope.
--[TBC]