(no subject)
TITLE: The Air From Higher Places (1/3)
PAIRING: JaeMin
RATING: R.
SUMMARY: Angst. Char death. i'm sorry for doing it again T-T
DISCLAIMNER: I don’t own them, I just watch ;]
A/N: borrows parts of the plot from "1 Litre of Tears" and its a bit similar to my other jaemin fic, in some ways. but er...
I'm sorry for lame titles and whatnot >.<
...and geez, why the hell does everything i write turn out to be so long?
.// The Air From Higher Places
The first time Jaejoong was ushered into the ER is at the age of three, a wailing toddler with a bloody nose and scratched up legs.
He’s rushed into the crowded space with moaning patients, bright lights, strange metal objects, and blood.
Three year old Jaejoong lies on his stretcher, crying for his mother as they roll him away into a less hectic environment. The clean up and disinfecting are done fairly fast and Jaejoong is sitting atop his bed with his legs swinging and a lollipop in his mouth.
They say nothing is wrong with him.
Age six finds Jaejoong surrounded by grey walls, dim lighting, and the various machines he’s hooked up to. He’s been there for two months already and he’s gonna be staying a couple more.
The doctors go in and out, asking him to perform various tasks as they jot down notes. The piece of paper slips from Jaejoong’s grasp and he hears the sound of pencils scribbling away. The boy trips forward into one of the doctors and they write some more things.
Jaejoong’s mother comes in and asks, “What’s wrong with my child? Why are you keeping him here? All children trip and fall sometimes.”
The doctor clicks his pen, “We think there’s something wrong with his brain.”
“Brain?”
“He doesn’t have the basic hand-eye coordination for a child his age.” Jaejoong’s mother looks perplexed, she doesn’t understand. “We had an almost replica case a few years back, I’ll give you the files.”
She nods after the doctor as the door closes and she faces Jaejoong with a smile. “I brought your favorite,” she says, waving a small plastic bag.
Jaejoong eats quietly, eyes wandering out to the playground, watching mops of black hair run all around. “Mom?”
“Hm?”
“What’s wrong with me?” He looks at her, innocent and curious, eyes opening wide as he waits for the answer.
She glances down, twists her hands together, “There’s nothing honey. They don’t know yet.”
“So when can I go outside and play like them?” he points out the glass window with his chubby finger.
“Soon honey, soon.”
Jaejoong later finds that his mother’s ‘soon’ is just the beginning of a whole bunch of lies and flowery cover-ups for the truth.
There’s a knock on the window and an eight year old Jaejoong turns to see the face of a little boy pressed against the glass, breath leaving foggy prints. The boy knocks again, and Jaejoong remembers the windows are slightly tinted. He gets up walks slowly to the window. Jaejoong knocks back and the other boy falls on his butt in surprise.
Pale lips let loose a light chuckle as Jaejoong ambles back to his bed and crawls into his sheets. The padding of little footsteps can be heard a ways off, and in seconds the door to Jaejoong’s room swings open.
He’s greeted with the image of a boy two years younger, cheeks flushed from the cold, hair tussled by the wind, and big eyes gazing indescribable depths. The boy’s short black hair is like coal as he walks into the dim room. Jaejoong has his lips pursed and brows furrowed, “What do you want?”
“I thought you were a girl so I came in to see. Sorry.”
Anger seethes through his little body as Jaejoong sits upright and glares at the intruder. His small hands are clenched in fists as his smoldering eyes stare daggers at the poor boy. A ball twirls in midair then bounces back and forth between the boy’s hands, “Wanna play with me?”
Jaejoong keeps his level gaze, “I can’t.”
The boy pouts, “Why?”
A hand gestures towards various machines and blinking lights, “I’m sick.”
“So?! I’ve seen people that look a lot sicker than you and still play !!”
“What are you in here for anyways?”
“My dad works here. He’s a doctor. You?”
Little Jaejoong looks away and replies in a quiet voice, “They say there’s something wrong with my brain.”
The boy, Jaejoong later finds out his name is Changmin, starts popping up for visits randomly through the week. Whenever he sees the swish of a certain doctor’s white robe, Jaejoong can expect Changmin bursting in the next minute. The boy’s never empty-handed either, always has some gadget or toy or food to show Jaejoong.
Changmin insists that Jaejoong’s not sick and the doctors are lying. “I really think you aren’t.” Jaejoong listens quietly. “’Cause like, all the other kids around here have things they can’t do or eat or… but you’re allowed to do everything un-sick people are.” Dark eyes are fixed on the boy’s animate features as he talks excitedly through gestures. “You’re just weak. And weak can be cured.”
Jaejoong blinks a couple of times and then he’s being dragged out of the room by an insistent Changmin. Jaejoong thinks that they’ll get scolded but he can’t help smiling as the younger boy tosses him the ball and pushes him on the swing. He’s kicking himself back and forth on the swing when he looks over. Changmin’s calling him, “Look Jaejoong! I can fly!” Jaejoong giggles softly as he watches the younger boy stand on the swing and jump off with arms spread like he can fly.
Jaejoong wishes he can fly like Changmin.
The boy’s on the floor, rubbing a bruised knee, when he looks up and catches Jaejoong’s eye. “You really are as pretty as a girl.” The older boy is taken aback, blushing madly as he strides past his friend and makes way for the hospital. “WAIT! JAEJOONGIE!! WAIT FOR ME!!”
Indignant, his little feet carry him through glass doors and large corridors until he reaches the familiar room. The door slides shut and Jaejoong locks it. Changmin ends up sitting outside the door whining, until Jaejoong’s mother comes. “Mrs. Kim.” The woman turns to the small boy by the door. “Why isn’t Jaejoong allowed to play with me?”
Years later Jaejoong will think back to this moment and realize there were tears hidden in his mother’s eyes. If he thinks about it now, that sudden suffocating hug shouldn’t have been much surprise.
“He’s allowed to,” Changmin’s face immediately brightens. “Changmin is it?” The boy nods. “Take our Joongie around and play with him until he’s too tired to move. Can you do that?”
“YES MA’AM!” Jaejoong casts a confused look back at his mother when he’s being dragged out the door yet again, only this time he has on a couple of layers and it’s a bit hot.
Jaejoong loses his footing and stumbles a bit, “Bye mom.” He calls.
Fridays, Changmin always stayed the longest on Fridays. The boy had told Jaejoong that he needed to breathe the air from higher places or something like that. Now that Jaejoong thinks back, Changmin probably took random words he overheard from his father and jammed them together. But Jaejoong doesn’t mind, he wants to taste the air from way up high and touch the clouds.
Jaejoong tells Changmin he wants to fly.
He’s being pushed on the swing, the force of the small arms behind him making him soar and laugh. His eyes shimmer against the soft sunlight and he’s clutching onto the chains for dear life because he’s so high. “I’m flying!” he screams, giggling madly as Changmin pushes him up and up.
He really does feel like he’s flying, soaring.
And then Changmin takes him to the roof, stubby arms lifting his sickly friend as they climb the stairs. Jaejoong’s gasping lightly when they reach the top of the flight but Changmin is as energetic as ever. He has his arms out, zooming around like an airplane. “I’m flying!” he says again.
Jaejoong watches as Changmin scales the edge of the roof and walks along it, shakily, and Jaejoong’s scared his friend will fall. A step at a time, Changmin walks on the roof with a smile that reaches all the way to his eyes and mismatches them. He looks so happy.
“I wanna try,” Jaejoong says quietly.
Arms clutching Changmin, he scales the thing and starts to walk. “Don’t look down,” Changmin says, but Jaejoong finds that he’s not scared of heights. He relishes in the fact that he’s so high above everything and everyone; they are all just little specks of color dotted across the ground. He takes a deep breath and Changmin’s right; the air up here is better.
Jaejoong stumbles and Changmin almost has a heart attack. He pulls the boy towards him as hard as he can and they wind up tumbling over each other. “Ow,” the younger whines as Jaejoong nurses a bruised elbow.
He’s led to the ledge and leans over with Changmin; it feels like they’re dangling from the edge of the earth. It feels like they’re invincible. Each take a deep breath, cool breeze stroking past rosy cheeks, and then they beam at each other.
Changmin watches Jaejoong with his eyes closed, hands clutched tightly around the edge, inclining his body towards the open space. The sun’s closer and it shines across Jaejoong’s silky locks, casts shadows across his face. Pale lips curve up into flushed cheeks as Jaejoong breathes and feels the wind against him. “So pretty,” Changmin whispers.
The older boy hears him and turns with a defiant glare. Changmin feels himself falter under the piercing look and stares back into those dark gleaming orbs.
Jaejoong ignores him for the remainder of that Friday.
Two years later, Changmin’s still in his life even though Jaejoong is out of the hospital. They go to the same school. He’s the quiet one that no one talks to and Changmin’s not better off in the presence of other people. Maybe that’s why they’re drawn to each other and kid with the idea of dying old together.
There are weekly checkups that Jaejoong has to go to and Changmin’s always running past the halls at just the right moment. Jaejoong always finds a smile as he steals a glance outside his room and catches sight of his friend, even under the scrutinizing eyes of the doctors and the annoying clicks of their pens.
Age eleven finds Jaejoong’s mother in the room, screaming at her son yet crying all the same. “Don’t say that! NEVER SAY THAT JOONGIE.”
And there’s that suffocating hug again.
Changmin ambles in with a wide grin on his face, a grin that immediately disappears. “Why are you crying?”
“Mom yelled at me.”
“What’d you say?”
Changmin stares into sad, sad eyes, “I said that it’s ok.” The younger boy makes a questioning noise. ”I heard them outside talking about the hospital expenses so I said that it’s ok. People are meant to die; it’s only a matter of time.”
A puzzled look crosses Changmin’s face, ties his tongue together so he can’t talk. Jaejoong looks out the window again, “It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything.”
Jaejoong never asks questions about his condition; he knows he’ll never get an honest answer. He just tells everyone ‘it’s ok.’
At the ripe age of fifteen Changmin is dragging Jaejoong around the streets as the world begins to dim. The bright lights and noisy commotion are new to Jaejoong, and the air around him smells like smoke and alcohol. Changmin’s a little deviant and he tells Jaejoong that they’re in the bad part of town where all the cool kids go. The boys are walking down the street when someone calls them over and offers them some cigs. Before Changmin can light his Jaejoong asks, “Do you know those can kill?”
The unlit cig falls to the floor and Jaejoong’s walking ahead, leaving Changmin and this disgusting world behind. He hears sounds he never wishes to hear, sees things he’d rather not. Jaejoong thinks; if this is how the real world is then I’d rather be holed up in the hospital.
It’s like when they were kids; Jaejoong’s walking up ahead, leaving Changmin behind, and all the younger boy can do is scramble to catch up.
They eventually fall back in step, “I didn’t smoke it.”
Jaejoong doesn’t turn, “Good.”
→
PAIRING: JaeMin
RATING: R.
SUMMARY: Angst. Char death. i'm sorry for doing it again T-T
DISCLAIMNER: I don’t own them, I just watch ;]
A/N: borrows parts of the plot from "1 Litre of Tears" and its a bit similar to my other jaemin fic, in some ways. but er...
I'm sorry for lame titles and whatnot >.<
...and geez, why the hell does everything i write turn out to be so long?
.// The Air From Higher Places
The first time Jaejoong was ushered into the ER is at the age of three, a wailing toddler with a bloody nose and scratched up legs.
He’s rushed into the crowded space with moaning patients, bright lights, strange metal objects, and blood.
Three year old Jaejoong lies on his stretcher, crying for his mother as they roll him away into a less hectic environment. The clean up and disinfecting are done fairly fast and Jaejoong is sitting atop his bed with his legs swinging and a lollipop in his mouth.
They say nothing is wrong with him.
Age six finds Jaejoong surrounded by grey walls, dim lighting, and the various machines he’s hooked up to. He’s been there for two months already and he’s gonna be staying a couple more.
The doctors go in and out, asking him to perform various tasks as they jot down notes. The piece of paper slips from Jaejoong’s grasp and he hears the sound of pencils scribbling away. The boy trips forward into one of the doctors and they write some more things.
Jaejoong’s mother comes in and asks, “What’s wrong with my child? Why are you keeping him here? All children trip and fall sometimes.”
The doctor clicks his pen, “We think there’s something wrong with his brain.”
“Brain?”
“He doesn’t have the basic hand-eye coordination for a child his age.” Jaejoong’s mother looks perplexed, she doesn’t understand. “We had an almost replica case a few years back, I’ll give you the files.”
She nods after the doctor as the door closes and she faces Jaejoong with a smile. “I brought your favorite,” she says, waving a small plastic bag.
Jaejoong eats quietly, eyes wandering out to the playground, watching mops of black hair run all around. “Mom?”
“Hm?”
“What’s wrong with me?” He looks at her, innocent and curious, eyes opening wide as he waits for the answer.
She glances down, twists her hands together, “There’s nothing honey. They don’t know yet.”
“So when can I go outside and play like them?” he points out the glass window with his chubby finger.
“Soon honey, soon.”
Jaejoong later finds that his mother’s ‘soon’ is just the beginning of a whole bunch of lies and flowery cover-ups for the truth.
There’s a knock on the window and an eight year old Jaejoong turns to see the face of a little boy pressed against the glass, breath leaving foggy prints. The boy knocks again, and Jaejoong remembers the windows are slightly tinted. He gets up walks slowly to the window. Jaejoong knocks back and the other boy falls on his butt in surprise.
Pale lips let loose a light chuckle as Jaejoong ambles back to his bed and crawls into his sheets. The padding of little footsteps can be heard a ways off, and in seconds the door to Jaejoong’s room swings open.
He’s greeted with the image of a boy two years younger, cheeks flushed from the cold, hair tussled by the wind, and big eyes gazing indescribable depths. The boy’s short black hair is like coal as he walks into the dim room. Jaejoong has his lips pursed and brows furrowed, “What do you want?”
“I thought you were a girl so I came in to see. Sorry.”
Anger seethes through his little body as Jaejoong sits upright and glares at the intruder. His small hands are clenched in fists as his smoldering eyes stare daggers at the poor boy. A ball twirls in midair then bounces back and forth between the boy’s hands, “Wanna play with me?”
Jaejoong keeps his level gaze, “I can’t.”
The boy pouts, “Why?”
A hand gestures towards various machines and blinking lights, “I’m sick.”
“So?! I’ve seen people that look a lot sicker than you and still play !!”
“What are you in here for anyways?”
“My dad works here. He’s a doctor. You?”
Little Jaejoong looks away and replies in a quiet voice, “They say there’s something wrong with my brain.”
The boy, Jaejoong later finds out his name is Changmin, starts popping up for visits randomly through the week. Whenever he sees the swish of a certain doctor’s white robe, Jaejoong can expect Changmin bursting in the next minute. The boy’s never empty-handed either, always has some gadget or toy or food to show Jaejoong.
Changmin insists that Jaejoong’s not sick and the doctors are lying. “I really think you aren’t.” Jaejoong listens quietly. “’Cause like, all the other kids around here have things they can’t do or eat or… but you’re allowed to do everything un-sick people are.” Dark eyes are fixed on the boy’s animate features as he talks excitedly through gestures. “You’re just weak. And weak can be cured.”
Jaejoong blinks a couple of times and then he’s being dragged out of the room by an insistent Changmin. Jaejoong thinks that they’ll get scolded but he can’t help smiling as the younger boy tosses him the ball and pushes him on the swing. He’s kicking himself back and forth on the swing when he looks over. Changmin’s calling him, “Look Jaejoong! I can fly!” Jaejoong giggles softly as he watches the younger boy stand on the swing and jump off with arms spread like he can fly.
Jaejoong wishes he can fly like Changmin.
The boy’s on the floor, rubbing a bruised knee, when he looks up and catches Jaejoong’s eye. “You really are as pretty as a girl.” The older boy is taken aback, blushing madly as he strides past his friend and makes way for the hospital. “WAIT! JAEJOONGIE!! WAIT FOR ME!!”
Indignant, his little feet carry him through glass doors and large corridors until he reaches the familiar room. The door slides shut and Jaejoong locks it. Changmin ends up sitting outside the door whining, until Jaejoong’s mother comes. “Mrs. Kim.” The woman turns to the small boy by the door. “Why isn’t Jaejoong allowed to play with me?”
Years later Jaejoong will think back to this moment and realize there were tears hidden in his mother’s eyes. If he thinks about it now, that sudden suffocating hug shouldn’t have been much surprise.
“He’s allowed to,” Changmin’s face immediately brightens. “Changmin is it?” The boy nods. “Take our Joongie around and play with him until he’s too tired to move. Can you do that?”
“YES MA’AM!” Jaejoong casts a confused look back at his mother when he’s being dragged out the door yet again, only this time he has on a couple of layers and it’s a bit hot.
Jaejoong loses his footing and stumbles a bit, “Bye mom.” He calls.
Fridays, Changmin always stayed the longest on Fridays. The boy had told Jaejoong that he needed to breathe the air from higher places or something like that. Now that Jaejoong thinks back, Changmin probably took random words he overheard from his father and jammed them together. But Jaejoong doesn’t mind, he wants to taste the air from way up high and touch the clouds.
Jaejoong tells Changmin he wants to fly.
He’s being pushed on the swing, the force of the small arms behind him making him soar and laugh. His eyes shimmer against the soft sunlight and he’s clutching onto the chains for dear life because he’s so high. “I’m flying!” he screams, giggling madly as Changmin pushes him up and up.
He really does feel like he’s flying, soaring.
And then Changmin takes him to the roof, stubby arms lifting his sickly friend as they climb the stairs. Jaejoong’s gasping lightly when they reach the top of the flight but Changmin is as energetic as ever. He has his arms out, zooming around like an airplane. “I’m flying!” he says again.
Jaejoong watches as Changmin scales the edge of the roof and walks along it, shakily, and Jaejoong’s scared his friend will fall. A step at a time, Changmin walks on the roof with a smile that reaches all the way to his eyes and mismatches them. He looks so happy.
“I wanna try,” Jaejoong says quietly.
Arms clutching Changmin, he scales the thing and starts to walk. “Don’t look down,” Changmin says, but Jaejoong finds that he’s not scared of heights. He relishes in the fact that he’s so high above everything and everyone; they are all just little specks of color dotted across the ground. He takes a deep breath and Changmin’s right; the air up here is better.
Jaejoong stumbles and Changmin almost has a heart attack. He pulls the boy towards him as hard as he can and they wind up tumbling over each other. “Ow,” the younger whines as Jaejoong nurses a bruised elbow.
He’s led to the ledge and leans over with Changmin; it feels like they’re dangling from the edge of the earth. It feels like they’re invincible. Each take a deep breath, cool breeze stroking past rosy cheeks, and then they beam at each other.
Changmin watches Jaejoong with his eyes closed, hands clutched tightly around the edge, inclining his body towards the open space. The sun’s closer and it shines across Jaejoong’s silky locks, casts shadows across his face. Pale lips curve up into flushed cheeks as Jaejoong breathes and feels the wind against him. “So pretty,” Changmin whispers.
The older boy hears him and turns with a defiant glare. Changmin feels himself falter under the piercing look and stares back into those dark gleaming orbs.
Jaejoong ignores him for the remainder of that Friday.
Two years later, Changmin’s still in his life even though Jaejoong is out of the hospital. They go to the same school. He’s the quiet one that no one talks to and Changmin’s not better off in the presence of other people. Maybe that’s why they’re drawn to each other and kid with the idea of dying old together.
There are weekly checkups that Jaejoong has to go to and Changmin’s always running past the halls at just the right moment. Jaejoong always finds a smile as he steals a glance outside his room and catches sight of his friend, even under the scrutinizing eyes of the doctors and the annoying clicks of their pens.
Age eleven finds Jaejoong’s mother in the room, screaming at her son yet crying all the same. “Don’t say that! NEVER SAY THAT JOONGIE.”
And there’s that suffocating hug again.
Changmin ambles in with a wide grin on his face, a grin that immediately disappears. “Why are you crying?”
“Mom yelled at me.”
“What’d you say?”
Changmin stares into sad, sad eyes, “I said that it’s ok.” The younger boy makes a questioning noise. ”I heard them outside talking about the hospital expenses so I said that it’s ok. People are meant to die; it’s only a matter of time.”
A puzzled look crosses Changmin’s face, ties his tongue together so he can’t talk. Jaejoong looks out the window again, “It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything.”
Jaejoong never asks questions about his condition; he knows he’ll never get an honest answer. He just tells everyone ‘it’s ok.’
At the ripe age of fifteen Changmin is dragging Jaejoong around the streets as the world begins to dim. The bright lights and noisy commotion are new to Jaejoong, and the air around him smells like smoke and alcohol. Changmin’s a little deviant and he tells Jaejoong that they’re in the bad part of town where all the cool kids go. The boys are walking down the street when someone calls them over and offers them some cigs. Before Changmin can light his Jaejoong asks, “Do you know those can kill?”
The unlit cig falls to the floor and Jaejoong’s walking ahead, leaving Changmin and this disgusting world behind. He hears sounds he never wishes to hear, sees things he’d rather not. Jaejoong thinks; if this is how the real world is then I’d rather be holed up in the hospital.
It’s like when they were kids; Jaejoong’s walking up ahead, leaving Changmin behind, and all the younger boy can do is scramble to catch up.
They eventually fall back in step, “I didn’t smoke it.”
Jaejoong doesn’t turn, “Good.”
→