JunDa: still, remember every day, PG
Title: still, remember every day
Pairing: JunDa
Rating: PG
Warnings:
For: spurnd, because she writes amazing fics, and I adore her JunDa, and she wanted me to write more of that pairing. I hope you enjoy, Shace. ♥
Word Count: 902
Disclaimer: No, I don't own them.
Author's Notes: Un-beta'ed. It's been a long time since I wrote JunDa. I really miss writing this pairing. This fic was inspired by a trip to the laundromat while it was pouring rain and I was half-frozen.
still, remember every day
Sunday morning. It’s raining outside, skies shaded a pale white-grey and windows marked in specks and trails with the soft pitter-patter rhythm. Tatsuya sits inside the laundromat, eyes half-closed and hidden under long dark bangs, earphones blasting rock music into his ears. Junno is next to him, fingers pressing controls on a black PSP fast running out of charge. It’s a laundromat which is almost always deserted. Tatsuya sometimes doubts if anyone else apart from him and Taguchi knows about this place. It’s small and dusty and the chairs creak, but the machines are in working condition and they’re not idols, just two young men coming here together, to wash their clothes.
Junno ends the game and leans back into the chair, which immediately makes an eerie groan of protest. “It’s cold,” he comments, and it is. The temperature is under ten degrees, and there is no heating system in this laundromat. The air is crisp and sharp and beginning to seep through the layers of clothing, gnawing at Junno’s skin.
Ueda doesn’t appear to have heard him. Junno sighs, reaching up to take one of Tatsuya’s earphones and putting it into his own ear. He hears the music long before it’s fitted snugly inside his ear, and the volume is almost painful to bear, stark contrast against the quiet whirring of the machines. Drums and bass and guitars and the deep voice of the male vocalist. “Ouch,” Junno whispers, tone playful. He takes the earphone out and returns it to where it belongs, in Ueda’s right ear, concealed beneath black hair. “You’ll go deaf before you know it, Tatsuya.” He takes a strand of Tatsuya’s hair and tucks it behind the ear. Tatsuya hears him, even with the loud music, but he does nothing to indicate that he has.
---
The green count reaches zero, and the dryer stops tumbling the clothes round and round in circles. Junno gets up and stretches and starts getting the clothes out. They’re warm, hot even, and Junno presses a towel to his cheek, glad for the heat and the softness of the fabric against his skin. “Tatsuya,” he calls. “Feel this!”
Ueda is reluctant to get up, but he does. Junno grabs his hand, and the fingers are too icy. “You’re freezing,” he murmurs, taking a shirt out of the dryer and handing it to Ueda. “You need to get warmer.”
Ueda accepts the shirt and buries his nose in it. It’s Junno’s shirt, and he fancies he can still detect the faint smell of Junno under the fragrant scent of roses from their laundry detergent. He folds it up and puts it into the bag. He turns to get something else out of the dryer, but Junno’s hand closes around his again.
“Still not warm enough,” Junno decides, and he raises Tatsuya’s hand up to his lips and presses a kiss into the open palm. Tatsuya thinks it feels like fire spreading through his hand. He knows that Junno is smiling into his hand, and he can’t help but smile too.
---
Sunday night, and the rain hasn’t ceased, and perhaps it’s falling heavier than it had this morning. The noise of the rain is lulling Junno to sleep, but there is the never-ending late night traffic, cars speeding past their apartment block and splashing water everywhere, and there are streetlights and traffic lights and the headlights of vehicles, visible and blazing still but blurring behind the surreal veil of rain, illuminating the room.
Ueda lies beside Junno, eyes lazily focusing and unfocusing on the lights outside the window. The night isn’t dark enough, and the lights are too blinding. One hand fumbles for his MP3 player on the bedside table. He finds it within a few seconds and the earphones slip easily into his ears and he plays the familiar favourites. Drums and bass and guitars and the deep voice of the male vocalist.
Junno turns over and takes one of his earphones, like he did at the laundromat. Already, the laundromat seems a little too far away, and Sunday is fading into Monday, and come Monday morning, they will be idols again.
Neither of them like Monday. Ueda watches Junno put the earphone into his left ear. He remembers what Junno said at the laundromat, and he turns the volume down. Somewhere behind the music, Junno can distinguish the pitter-patter of rain. The two of them lie there for a while like that, connected by the wire of the earphones and the same song playing in their ears.
“I love you,” Junno says suddenly, but it doesn’t taste sudden. It’s as if the whole world has been waiting for this moment, holding its breath for it, and now the music blends into the background, along with the rain and the lights, and Ueda’s face breaks into a smile. He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t need to. They kiss, Junno’s mouth soft against Ueda’s. And Junno’s hand find Ueda’s and their fingers entwine.
When they pull apart, Junno’s eyes are bright and soft and the curve of Ueda’s lips will be imprinted in his memory forever. And then the spell is broken, and the world carries on in its motion, lights on the roads glaring more intensely than ever.
But between them, there is still the earphones and the music, drums and bass and guitars and the deep voice of the male vocalist.
--fin.
Pairing: JunDa
Rating: PG
Warnings:
For: spurnd, because she writes amazing fics, and I adore her JunDa, and she wanted me to write more of that pairing. I hope you enjoy, Shace. ♥
Word Count: 902
Disclaimer: No, I don't own them.
Author's Notes: Un-beta'ed. It's been a long time since I wrote JunDa. I really miss writing this pairing. This fic was inspired by a trip to the laundromat while it was pouring rain and I was half-frozen.
still, remember every day
Sunday morning. It’s raining outside, skies shaded a pale white-grey and windows marked in specks and trails with the soft pitter-patter rhythm. Tatsuya sits inside the laundromat, eyes half-closed and hidden under long dark bangs, earphones blasting rock music into his ears. Junno is next to him, fingers pressing controls on a black PSP fast running out of charge. It’s a laundromat which is almost always deserted. Tatsuya sometimes doubts if anyone else apart from him and Taguchi knows about this place. It’s small and dusty and the chairs creak, but the machines are in working condition and they’re not idols, just two young men coming here together, to wash their clothes.
Junno ends the game and leans back into the chair, which immediately makes an eerie groan of protest. “It’s cold,” he comments, and it is. The temperature is under ten degrees, and there is no heating system in this laundromat. The air is crisp and sharp and beginning to seep through the layers of clothing, gnawing at Junno’s skin.
Ueda doesn’t appear to have heard him. Junno sighs, reaching up to take one of Tatsuya’s earphones and putting it into his own ear. He hears the music long before it’s fitted snugly inside his ear, and the volume is almost painful to bear, stark contrast against the quiet whirring of the machines. Drums and bass and guitars and the deep voice of the male vocalist. “Ouch,” Junno whispers, tone playful. He takes the earphone out and returns it to where it belongs, in Ueda’s right ear, concealed beneath black hair. “You’ll go deaf before you know it, Tatsuya.” He takes a strand of Tatsuya’s hair and tucks it behind the ear. Tatsuya hears him, even with the loud music, but he does nothing to indicate that he has.
---
The green count reaches zero, and the dryer stops tumbling the clothes round and round in circles. Junno gets up and stretches and starts getting the clothes out. They’re warm, hot even, and Junno presses a towel to his cheek, glad for the heat and the softness of the fabric against his skin. “Tatsuya,” he calls. “Feel this!”
Ueda is reluctant to get up, but he does. Junno grabs his hand, and the fingers are too icy. “You’re freezing,” he murmurs, taking a shirt out of the dryer and handing it to Ueda. “You need to get warmer.”
Ueda accepts the shirt and buries his nose in it. It’s Junno’s shirt, and he fancies he can still detect the faint smell of Junno under the fragrant scent of roses from their laundry detergent. He folds it up and puts it into the bag. He turns to get something else out of the dryer, but Junno’s hand closes around his again.
“Still not warm enough,” Junno decides, and he raises Tatsuya’s hand up to his lips and presses a kiss into the open palm. Tatsuya thinks it feels like fire spreading through his hand. He knows that Junno is smiling into his hand, and he can’t help but smile too.
---
Sunday night, and the rain hasn’t ceased, and perhaps it’s falling heavier than it had this morning. The noise of the rain is lulling Junno to sleep, but there is the never-ending late night traffic, cars speeding past their apartment block and splashing water everywhere, and there are streetlights and traffic lights and the headlights of vehicles, visible and blazing still but blurring behind the surreal veil of rain, illuminating the room.
Ueda lies beside Junno, eyes lazily focusing and unfocusing on the lights outside the window. The night isn’t dark enough, and the lights are too blinding. One hand fumbles for his MP3 player on the bedside table. He finds it within a few seconds and the earphones slip easily into his ears and he plays the familiar favourites. Drums and bass and guitars and the deep voice of the male vocalist.
Junno turns over and takes one of his earphones, like he did at the laundromat. Already, the laundromat seems a little too far away, and Sunday is fading into Monday, and come Monday morning, they will be idols again.
Neither of them like Monday. Ueda watches Junno put the earphone into his left ear. He remembers what Junno said at the laundromat, and he turns the volume down. Somewhere behind the music, Junno can distinguish the pitter-patter of rain. The two of them lie there for a while like that, connected by the wire of the earphones and the same song playing in their ears.
“I love you,” Junno says suddenly, but it doesn’t taste sudden. It’s as if the whole world has been waiting for this moment, holding its breath for it, and now the music blends into the background, along with the rain and the lights, and Ueda’s face breaks into a smile. He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t need to. They kiss, Junno’s mouth soft against Ueda’s. And Junno’s hand find Ueda’s and their fingers entwine.
When they pull apart, Junno’s eyes are bright and soft and the curve of Ueda’s lips will be imprinted in his memory forever. And then the spell is broken, and the world carries on in its motion, lights on the roads glaring more intensely than ever.
But between them, there is still the earphones and the music, drums and bass and guitars and the deep voice of the male vocalist.
--fin.