(no subject)
TITLE: The Air From Higher Places (3/3)
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?
(cont.)
The door slams in his face and Changmin’s blinking rapidly. The door’s locked. “Jaejoong!” his fits pound against the flimsy barrier, “JAEJOONG OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR. IF YOU DON’T IN THREE SECONDS I WILL-“
It slams open and he’s staring down at his lover, “Shut up, this is a hospital.”
Changmin’s sitting down on Jaejoong’s bed, pouting, “Wanna tell me what I did that was so bad?”
Jaejoong doesn’t bother lying back down, he doesn’t even bother to turn around. “Changmin. I’m gonna die one day.”
They are both looking, staring hard, away, afraid of what a little glance will do to them. “We all will.”
“You know what I fucking mean.” Changmin thinks; he remembers Jaejoong didn’t used to curse this much. “I’m gonna die, one day, when I can’t eat or talk or even breathe. I’m gonna die, not of old age, but this stupid disease. In pain, waking up in the middle of the night, paralyzed and choking on my own spit. You know that right?”
“What are you-“
“SHUT UP. Don’t be like them; fuck you Changmin, don’t.” Jaejoong turns, a defiant glare, eyes red with anger and tears. “Don’t you dare look me in the eye and lie to me.”
Heads downcast, Changmin mumbles something akin to a sorry. But then he lifts his head and has Jaejoong pinned to the wall. “Still,” he says, on the verge of screaming, losing his grasp on his perfect little world that was never really perfect to begin with. “Don’t say that. DON’T YOU FUCKING SAY THAT TO ME AND ACT LIKE YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT DOES TO ME.”
Jaejoong refuses to acknowledge the pain in his chest. He won’t see Changmin’s tears, the trembling hands that have a vice-like grip on his shirt. Jaejoong looks away, “Let’s break up.”
“Fuck you.” Changmin lets go of the older boy, watching as Jaejoong sags against the wall, grimacing slightly in pain. The light from outside catches the glint of a tear sliding down the curve of Jaejoong’s cheek, and Changmin can’t read Jaejoong for all he’s worth. “Fuck you Jaejoong. I hate you. I fucking hate you.” He slides down to Jaejoong’s level, sprawled out on the floor with him, leans into him and holds onto him for dear life.
“Fuck, Min. That hurts.”
He’s allowed to be selfish right? After all this he’s allowed to be a spoiled little brat right? “No.”
Jaejoong chuckles then, breaking the tension with his heartfelt smile that always smoothes things over. He strokes Changmin’s hair and watches the boy fall asleep besides him. His fingers run through silky cool strands of light-brown hair as they roll into the wall. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. Jaejoong takes his hand away, clenches it into a fist and bites on his finger hard to shut himself up. Changmin stirs a bit when a teardrop splashes on his cheek, but otherwise, it’s just a close call.
“I want to fly.”
It’s a random statement but then again it’s not. It holds a meaning that started from some childish thoughts and speculations, but now, it’s different. It’s different because even when Jaejoong can barely walk and has to struggle to breathe, he’s on the rooftop with Changmin. He’s on top of that ledge with his arms spread wide, feeling like he’s king of the world. He’s laughing like it doesn’t hurt, and the hoarse gasps for breath go unnoticed. The circulation in Changmin’s wrist may well be cut off but the younger boy’s just amazed at how Jaejoong radiates against the sun. “I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU SHIM CHANGMIN!” The love declaration comes as a surprise and Changmin can only laugh as he watches Jaejoong walk on, telling the world that Changmin is his and it’s love and fuck he’s good in bed and its damn near perfect when Jaejoong turns to him. This time it’s a whisper, that glint in Jaejoong’s eyes that Changmin’s missed so fucking much, that slight grin that has him fumbling like an idiot, “I love you Changmin, so fucking much,” I could die.
Jaejoong leaves the last part unsaid, given the circumstances, and jumps off into Changmin’s arms. They crash onto the hard cement floor with bruised joints and torn skin. Changmin’s complaining again and it’s almost like they’re regressing back into childhood. “Fuck Jaejoong. I’m bleeding. You could have warned me!”
Jaejoong laughs, leaning back onto Changmin’s chest as he sends a smile with glittering eyes, “I’m sorry!” Concern is etched into the crease of his brows, “Does it hurt much?”
“YES. IT HURTS LIKE A BITCH.” But really, Changmin’s trying hard not to laugh.
Jaejoong runs his fingers by the cut, barely missing the seeping red line, “Oh shit. Leme get some -“ He’s up and all ready to run down and get some band-aids but Jaejoong instead finds himself tumbling into Changmin’s already sore figure.
“It’s okay, I can handle as much.”
And it’s surreal, really.
Lying in each other’s arms, basking in the sunset, gazing at the night stars; it doesn’t seem real at all. It’s like Jaejoong’s all better, like he was never sick to begin with, like Changmin never cried himself to sleep, and like Jaejoong never once thought he’d rather be dead.
They’re whispering ‘I love yous’ with an occasional dirty comment that makes Jaejoong (or Changmin) blush red with fury and embarrassment and sends them into a giggle-fit.
It feels like someone else’s life. Cause theirs can’t be anywhere near this perfect.
Cause they weren’t anywhere near this lucky.
Fuck no, fate’s stupid and reality is its whore.
Jaejoong’s a bit cold but then it’s fine because he finds warmth in the serene look on Changmin’s face and snuggles closer to the younger boy. Arms immediately come around and pull him in further.
They fit together so well.
So fucking well.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Jaejoong says.
Changmin doesn’t answer, pretends he’s asleep.
He makes no promises.
Three days after Changmin walks into an empty hospital room is Jaejoong’s funeral. He’s all dressed up, looking good and hot in black, but he’s already decided he’s not going. Hair’s combed back, suit ironed, shoes shined, but it’s all for naught.
His feet take him up the familiar steps, up and up, until the heavy metal door opens and the light blinds him.
It’s our rooftop. It’s out rooftop but where the fuck are you Jaejoong?
Huge letters written across the cement give him his answer.
I’m flying Changmin.
I’m breathing the air from a higher place and it tastes so good.
I feel great.
Changmin chokes a bit, tears riding up once again and he wonders how many times he’s cried within the short span of a few days. He wonders if he’s managed to stop for more than a minute.
Don’t look for me.
“Why can’t I?” It’s absurd because he’s talking to someone who won’t respond, yelling at some letters etched in the cement. He’s a fucking lunatic.
Don’t.
“WHY THE FUCK CAN’T I JAEJOONG?” Gods, he’s having a conversation with the floor.
I said so. You promised me.
“No I didn’t.” Changmin wishes Jaejoong would have used something other than chalk because he’s crawling over the cool surface and the words are disappearing. The tears aren’t helping in the slightest.
Well, I don’t care. Just don’t.
If the mental clinic could see him now. “You’re fucking selfish. I hate you.”
I know. I’m sorry. I love you.
Changmin turns away at that point, not caring to read anything else. He’s crying his poor heart out and the people three blocks away can probably hear him. He’s on the floor, black suit smudged with different colored chalk. It hurts so much he has to steady himself. Breathe in, breathe out.
“Oh fuck Jaejoong. What am I supposed to do?” His head rolls to the side, where it seems like just yesterday he found Jaejoong beaming back at him. There’s nothing now, except more smudged words and dirty gray expanse.
He’s all alone.
Jaejoong’s not here.
I won’t forgive you.
He’s flying.
“Every since I can remember Jaejoong, it was us, together.”
I wanna fly too.
“Are you asking me to forget all of that? You think it’s that easy to up and move on? It hurts so bad, feels like something inside is tearing apart or being ripped to pieces. I’ve never felt anything like this. I didn’t know I could hurt like this.”
Eyes shut, more tears escape. They run down Changmin’s cheeks and his eyes are red and puffy, they feel like stone; he can’t stop crying.
It’s uncontrollable.
“God Jaejoong.”
His body’s shaking and he just keeps on sobbing.
There’s no stopping, something inside of him has snapped. He’s reached that breaking point and he’s so jaded, torn apart from the inside out.
Gone.
There’s no going back. No comfort, no kind smiles and fake words; he’s not getting out of this.
With him.
“How the hell do you expect me to deal with this Jaejoong? It hurts so fucking much.”
Together.
It’s not gonna get better. Not now, not ever, what they had was more than that.
Way more.
So much fucking more.
Changmin’s up on his feet, scaling the edge with his shaky hands and shaky arms and shaky feet -it’s a wonder he even gets up there. He’s so high up. It’s exhilarating; the taste of despair, death, Changmin can’t wait.
I want to see him.
So bad.
Now.
It’d be an understatement to say that Changmin wasn’t in the right state of mind.
That he wasn't thinking clearly.
Can’t I?
Can’t I Jaejoong?
He’s past it all now, so far gone that he doesn’t even feel. He’s numb and his eyes are lost, blank and yet at the same time frantic. The tears remain a heart-wrenching constant though, it’s like they’re part of him, it’s like the silent streaks aren’t meant to stop.
They’re not allowed to, ever.
Changmin won’t allow it.
I can taste the air from up here.
His arms are outstretched and he’s facing the burning sun. He feels empty.
The wind brushes past, soft and silent, wiping the hair of his face and takes with it a few salty drops of Changmin’s misery.
Jaejoong.
He's calling out. Needing.
“Jaejoong.”
One step, a second, a slight fumble would mean Shim Changmin falling to his death.
But it’s not like he minds.
Jaejoong.
“I’ll tell you what.”
I don’t need your forgiveness.
I just need you.
---
i'm hoping you guys didn't hate the ending too much. >.<
was it hard to follow?
i still don't know why i divided it up into 3 parts.. D:
and er, please, i realized i never asked for it before so i'm telling you all.
i'm up for concrit. ^^ ~need to get better so...
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?
(cont.)
The door slams in his face and Changmin’s blinking rapidly. The door’s locked. “Jaejoong!” his fits pound against the flimsy barrier, “JAEJOONG OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR. IF YOU DON’T IN THREE SECONDS I WILL-“
It slams open and he’s staring down at his lover, “Shut up, this is a hospital.”
Changmin’s sitting down on Jaejoong’s bed, pouting, “Wanna tell me what I did that was so bad?”
Jaejoong doesn’t bother lying back down, he doesn’t even bother to turn around. “Changmin. I’m gonna die one day.”
They are both looking, staring hard, away, afraid of what a little glance will do to them. “We all will.”
“You know what I fucking mean.” Changmin thinks; he remembers Jaejoong didn’t used to curse this much. “I’m gonna die, one day, when I can’t eat or talk or even breathe. I’m gonna die, not of old age, but this stupid disease. In pain, waking up in the middle of the night, paralyzed and choking on my own spit. You know that right?”
“What are you-“
“SHUT UP. Don’t be like them; fuck you Changmin, don’t.” Jaejoong turns, a defiant glare, eyes red with anger and tears. “Don’t you dare look me in the eye and lie to me.”
Heads downcast, Changmin mumbles something akin to a sorry. But then he lifts his head and has Jaejoong pinned to the wall. “Still,” he says, on the verge of screaming, losing his grasp on his perfect little world that was never really perfect to begin with. “Don’t say that. DON’T YOU FUCKING SAY THAT TO ME AND ACT LIKE YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT DOES TO ME.”
Jaejoong refuses to acknowledge the pain in his chest. He won’t see Changmin’s tears, the trembling hands that have a vice-like grip on his shirt. Jaejoong looks away, “Let’s break up.”
“Fuck you.” Changmin lets go of the older boy, watching as Jaejoong sags against the wall, grimacing slightly in pain. The light from outside catches the glint of a tear sliding down the curve of Jaejoong’s cheek, and Changmin can’t read Jaejoong for all he’s worth. “Fuck you Jaejoong. I hate you. I fucking hate you.” He slides down to Jaejoong’s level, sprawled out on the floor with him, leans into him and holds onto him for dear life.
“Fuck, Min. That hurts.”
He’s allowed to be selfish right? After all this he’s allowed to be a spoiled little brat right? “No.”
Jaejoong chuckles then, breaking the tension with his heartfelt smile that always smoothes things over. He strokes Changmin’s hair and watches the boy fall asleep besides him. His fingers run through silky cool strands of light-brown hair as they roll into the wall. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. Jaejoong takes his hand away, clenches it into a fist and bites on his finger hard to shut himself up. Changmin stirs a bit when a teardrop splashes on his cheek, but otherwise, it’s just a close call.
“I want to fly.”
It’s a random statement but then again it’s not. It holds a meaning that started from some childish thoughts and speculations, but now, it’s different. It’s different because even when Jaejoong can barely walk and has to struggle to breathe, he’s on the rooftop with Changmin. He’s on top of that ledge with his arms spread wide, feeling like he’s king of the world. He’s laughing like it doesn’t hurt, and the hoarse gasps for breath go unnoticed. The circulation in Changmin’s wrist may well be cut off but the younger boy’s just amazed at how Jaejoong radiates against the sun. “I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU SHIM CHANGMIN!” The love declaration comes as a surprise and Changmin can only laugh as he watches Jaejoong walk on, telling the world that Changmin is his and it’s love and fuck he’s good in bed and its damn near perfect when Jaejoong turns to him. This time it’s a whisper, that glint in Jaejoong’s eyes that Changmin’s missed so fucking much, that slight grin that has him fumbling like an idiot, “I love you Changmin, so fucking much,” I could die.
Jaejoong leaves the last part unsaid, given the circumstances, and jumps off into Changmin’s arms. They crash onto the hard cement floor with bruised joints and torn skin. Changmin’s complaining again and it’s almost like they’re regressing back into childhood. “Fuck Jaejoong. I’m bleeding. You could have warned me!”
Jaejoong laughs, leaning back onto Changmin’s chest as he sends a smile with glittering eyes, “I’m sorry!” Concern is etched into the crease of his brows, “Does it hurt much?”
“YES. IT HURTS LIKE A BITCH.” But really, Changmin’s trying hard not to laugh.
Jaejoong runs his fingers by the cut, barely missing the seeping red line, “Oh shit. Leme get some -“ He’s up and all ready to run down and get some band-aids but Jaejoong instead finds himself tumbling into Changmin’s already sore figure.
“It’s okay, I can handle as much.”
And it’s surreal, really.
Lying in each other’s arms, basking in the sunset, gazing at the night stars; it doesn’t seem real at all. It’s like Jaejoong’s all better, like he was never sick to begin with, like Changmin never cried himself to sleep, and like Jaejoong never once thought he’d rather be dead.
They’re whispering ‘I love yous’ with an occasional dirty comment that makes Jaejoong (or Changmin) blush red with fury and embarrassment and sends them into a giggle-fit.
It feels like someone else’s life. Cause theirs can’t be anywhere near this perfect.
Cause they weren’t anywhere near this lucky.
Fuck no, fate’s stupid and reality is its whore.
Jaejoong’s a bit cold but then it’s fine because he finds warmth in the serene look on Changmin’s face and snuggles closer to the younger boy. Arms immediately come around and pull him in further.
They fit together so well.
So fucking well.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Jaejoong says.
Changmin doesn’t answer, pretends he’s asleep.
He makes no promises.
Three days after Changmin walks into an empty hospital room is Jaejoong’s funeral. He’s all dressed up, looking good and hot in black, but he’s already decided he’s not going. Hair’s combed back, suit ironed, shoes shined, but it’s all for naught.
His feet take him up the familiar steps, up and up, until the heavy metal door opens and the light blinds him.
It’s our rooftop. It’s out rooftop but where the fuck are you Jaejoong?
Huge letters written across the cement give him his answer.
I’m flying Changmin.
I’m breathing the air from a higher place and it tastes so good.
I feel great.
Changmin chokes a bit, tears riding up once again and he wonders how many times he’s cried within the short span of a few days. He wonders if he’s managed to stop for more than a minute.
Don’t look for me.
“Why can’t I?” It’s absurd because he’s talking to someone who won’t respond, yelling at some letters etched in the cement. He’s a fucking lunatic.
Don’t.
“WHY THE FUCK CAN’T I JAEJOONG?” Gods, he’s having a conversation with the floor.
I said so. You promised me.
“No I didn’t.” Changmin wishes Jaejoong would have used something other than chalk because he’s crawling over the cool surface and the words are disappearing. The tears aren’t helping in the slightest.
Well, I don’t care. Just don’t.
If the mental clinic could see him now. “You’re fucking selfish. I hate you.”
I know. I’m sorry. I love you.
Changmin turns away at that point, not caring to read anything else. He’s crying his poor heart out and the people three blocks away can probably hear him. He’s on the floor, black suit smudged with different colored chalk. It hurts so much he has to steady himself. Breathe in, breathe out.
“Oh fuck Jaejoong. What am I supposed to do?” His head rolls to the side, where it seems like just yesterday he found Jaejoong beaming back at him. There’s nothing now, except more smudged words and dirty gray expanse.
He’s all alone.
Jaejoong’s not here.
I won’t forgive you.
He’s flying.
“Every since I can remember Jaejoong, it was us, together.”
I wanna fly too.
“Are you asking me to forget all of that? You think it’s that easy to up and move on? It hurts so bad, feels like something inside is tearing apart or being ripped to pieces. I’ve never felt anything like this. I didn’t know I could hurt like this.”
Eyes shut, more tears escape. They run down Changmin’s cheeks and his eyes are red and puffy, they feel like stone; he can’t stop crying.
It’s uncontrollable.
“God Jaejoong.”
His body’s shaking and he just keeps on sobbing.
There’s no stopping, something inside of him has snapped. He’s reached that breaking point and he’s so jaded, torn apart from the inside out.
Gone.
There’s no going back. No comfort, no kind smiles and fake words; he’s not getting out of this.
With him.
“How the hell do you expect me to deal with this Jaejoong? It hurts so fucking much.”
Together.
It’s not gonna get better. Not now, not ever, what they had was more than that.
Way more.
So much fucking more.
Changmin’s up on his feet, scaling the edge with his shaky hands and shaky arms and shaky feet -it’s a wonder he even gets up there. He’s so high up. It’s exhilarating; the taste of despair, death, Changmin can’t wait.
I want to see him.
So bad.
Now.
It’d be an understatement to say that Changmin wasn’t in the right state of mind.
That he wasn't thinking clearly.
Can’t I?
Can’t I Jaejoong?
He’s past it all now, so far gone that he doesn’t even feel. He’s numb and his eyes are lost, blank and yet at the same time frantic. The tears remain a heart-wrenching constant though, it’s like they’re part of him, it’s like the silent streaks aren’t meant to stop.
They’re not allowed to, ever.
Changmin won’t allow it.
I can taste the air from up here.
His arms are outstretched and he’s facing the burning sun. He feels empty.
The wind brushes past, soft and silent, wiping the hair of his face and takes with it a few salty drops of Changmin’s misery.
Jaejoong.
He's calling out. Needing.
“Jaejoong.”
One step, a second, a slight fumble would mean Shim Changmin falling to his death.
But it’s not like he minds.
Jaejoong.
“I’ll tell you what.”
I don’t need your forgiveness.
I just need you.
---
i'm hoping you guys didn't hate the ending too much. >.<
was it hard to follow?
i still don't know why i divided it up into 3 parts.. D:
and er, please, i realized i never asked for it before so i'm telling you all.
i'm up for concrit. ^^ ~need to get better so...