Fic: Pretend
Title: Pretend
Pairing: Jaejoong/Yoochun, implied Jaejoong/Yunho
Rating: PG-13
I...what? Idek. Written for ravenlock_3's prompt of Jaechun: scorned love as part of my DBSK pairings challenge here. There're still pairings unclaimed, so any prompts would help me so much <3 And, also, because I promised halcyon_morn fic before I leave tomorrow for a chalet, so, here, the doppelgänger fic of fail. I said I wouldn't do it, but Chris made me. Blame him, if you must.
“Jaejoong”, Junsu says, eyes wide, stricken, face pale, and Jaejoong doesn’t understand, because he is fine, and here, right here. ”Jaejoong”, Junsu repeats, more impatiently, finger jabbing furiously, and they all stand this time.
“Hello”, Jaejoong says from across the kitchen counter, and Jaejoong blinks. It’s his smile, faint, unsure, lips quirked awkwardly, his face, “coffee?”
“Yes, please”, Jaejoong says, surprised at how steady his voice sounds; arranges himself on a stool.
---
They’re watching the both of them, the other four, with Jaejoong manfully ignoring Changmin’s creased brow and Yunho’s distracted muttering. This Jaejoong is younger, shyer, paper napkin in hand, fingers shredding, shredding, shredding. It’s nervous, compulsive, and Jaejoong wishes he would stop.
He works in an office, Jaejoong tells them. He makes coffee, copies, reservations. It’s good coffee. Yoochun’s face is carefully blank, half hidden in his cup. Junsu has his head bowed, eyes closed, lips moving, and Jaejoong thinks he might be praying to wake up.
“Well”, Yunho says finally. “Well”, Jaejoong echoes, and waits. Changmin frowns.
“Does this mean we’re keeping him?”
Yunho shrugs, almost helplessly, and Jaejoong beams.
---
“This is a good thing.” Jaejoong tries his most disarming smile once they’re sure his double is out of earshot down the corridor. “He can go on interviews for me, things like that.”
Yunho sighs heavily. “He doesn’t speak Japanese, Jaejoong-ah.”
“Well, neither do I”, Jaejoong counters hotly, and Changmin chokes on his drink and nearly falls off his perch laughing.
“I”, Yunho takes a deep, steadying breath, “sleep”, and Junsu pats his arm sympathetically.
---
It’s a little strange sharing a bed with himself, Jaejoong confesses, head pillowed on Yunho’s thigh, even if this Jaejoong doesn’t exactly count as himself, since they’re not really all the same-
“Jaejoong”, Yunho begins, and he can hear the worry in the other boy’s voice without even having to look up, “I don’t think-”
They both sit up at the sound, the quiet exhale, the oh so soft it nearly dissipates into the corners of the room without reaching their ears. Jaejoong wonders if he’s ever looked like that. It’s an expression he can’t place, for all that it might as well be a mirror he’s looking at. It’s fleeting, transient, and then Jaejoong smiles, a brief flash of teeth, nods and then turns away.
“I should-” Jaejoong starts, then falters when he realizes Yunho isn’t moving, when he realizes Yunho hasn’t even noticed.
“Should what?”
Jaejoong frowns, stretches, settles back down. “Nothing.”
---
Yoochun’s reading, when the bedroom door opens to admit Jaejoong. Not their Jaejoong, as he’s come to think of him, not Youngwoong Jaejoong, just regular, ordinary old Kim Jaejoong. As ordinary as Kim Jaejoong can ever be, in any case.
“Yunho”, he says without preamble as he flops down on Jaejoong’s bed. “Does he…love your Jaejoong?”
Yoochun tries hard to keep the incredulity from his voice, and fails. ”What?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I-” Yoochun struggles with the words; scowls when Jaejoong just stares back at him, calm, implacable. “I suppose he does.”
“Oh.” Jaejoong turns onto his back, eyes now on the ceiling. “It’s different, where I come from.”
“Oh.” Yoochun crosses his arms, bites down hard on his lip; hates the way curiosity always gets the better of him. “Who does he love, over there?”
Jaejoong’s smile is wide, white, sardonic, and Yoochun wants to run away. “You”, he says, eyes dark, dark, unreadable, and Yoochun swallows.
“Oh.”
“Goodnight, Yoochun”, Jaejoong says; turns to face the wall.
---
There’s something amiss here, Yunho knows, because things like these just don’t happen-
Jaejoong’s lips are soft on his, his hands clawing, clawing, desperate, and Yunho thinks he understands, thinks he knows what a drowning man looks like, now.
“Stop”, he manages, hating how breathless he sounds, the heat of his cheeks. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” It’s not Jaejoong, he knows, not really, but Yunho wonders if he’ll ever be able to look Jaejoong in the eye again, after this. Jaejoong’s face is flushed, lips too red, and Yunho resists the urge to back away.
“Jaejoong, I don’t- I mean, we can’t-”
“Oh.” Jaejoong stills. “I thought-” He shakes his head, laughs softly under his breath. “I suppose some things stay the same, after all.”
“Jaejoong”, but Jaejoong evades his grasp easily.
“I’m going out”, Jaejoong calls over his shoulder, and Yunho almost makes a grab for him.
“Jaejoong, wait-”
---
Yoochun’s on the balcony blowing smoke rings into the wind when he hears the door sliding open.
“You lied to me”, Jaejoong slurs by his ear, and Yoochun jumps; stubs out his cigarette on the railing.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
Jaejoong laughs, too loud, and even here Yoochun can smell the alcohol on his breath. He’s swaying slightly on his feet, and Yoochun can feel his lip curl in distaste. In this, at least, they’re the same. “You lied to me”, Jaejoong repeats, and then he’s lurching drunkenly, too close to the edge, and Yoochun swears under his breath.
“Jaejoong, please”, and Yoochun’s not sure what he’s asking for, except he isn’t prepared to watch Jaejoong plummet ten stories to his death, much as he hates playing babysitter. Jaejoong laughs again as he stumbles closer.
“I know why, now. God, what a fucked up place this is.” Yoochun grunts as Jaejoong leans his weight on him. “I’ve seen you watching him”, Jaejoong says into his ear, low, low, coiling, darkly amused. “Him. Me. Jaejoong”, and Yoochun recoils.
“What-”
“I know why, now.” Jaejoong laughs again. “It’s because you love him, over here.”
“I don’t know what-”
“Come, now.” Jaejoong’s fingers are cold on the inside of his wrist, his breath hot, hot, hot on Yoochun’s cheek. “I know, and I think Changmin knows. Does he know?” Jaejoong’s gaze is sharp, sharp, eerily lucid. “We could pretend, if you like. Call me hyung, if you want. Anything.”
“You sick, sick bastard”, Yoochun’s throat is dry, so dry, fingers white knuckled on Jaejoong’s shirt. He could hit him, he could push him away, but Jaejoong is drunk, drunk drunk drunk. “I’m not that Yoochun-”
“No”, Jaejoong agrees, and Yoochun can feel the cold of the wrought iron digging into his lower back when Jaejoong kisses him. They’ve never done this, him and Jaejoong, even if this isn’t- Almost, but never, and this is wrong, wrong wrong wrong-
“Now”, Jaejoong says, pulling away, eyes wide in the dimness, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
---
“He kissed you.” Jaejoong repeats, slowly, carefully, testing the syllables on his tongue. “He cornered you and…kissed you.”
Yunho flushes, face half hidden by a handy cushion, and Junsu frowns. “I don’t get it.”
“Um, guys?” Changmin wanders in then, lips pressed into a thin line. “Jaejoong hyung and Yoochuh hyung are- Oh, hyung, you’re here. Not you, then.”
Jaejoong starts to stand. “Not me, what?”
“I thought it was you, but”, Changmin shrugs. “Your double’s out there making out with Yoochun hyung.”
”What?” Junsu shakes his head, face a mask of disbelief. “First Yunho hyung and now Yoochun?”
“Yoochun.” Jaejoong is grateful for the couch just two steps away. “But why would Yoochun-ah-”
“That’s none of our business”, Yunho declares decisively. ”No”, he says, and Junsu closes his mouth with a snap. “It’s late. We should all get to bed.”
Changmin’s hand is warm on his shoulder when he stops Jaejoong just outside the door to his room, his smile small, cryptic. “Maybe”, he says, soft, soft, soft, “maybe he thinks it’s you”, and Jaejoong shakes his head to show he doesn’t understand.
“Changmin-ah-”
“Sleep well, hyung.”
---
Jaejoong sleeps in Yoochun’s bed that night.
He’s still in the bathroom when Jaejoong enters, still bleary eyed and cranky after a night plagued with dreams of Yoochun and Yunho and his reflection stepping out of mirrors. “Hello”, Jaejoong says, neutrally enough, hair damp from the shower, and Jaejoong grunts in reply.
“I-” His double hesitates, and Jaejoong concentrates on brushing his teeth, gaze fixed squarely on the sink. “I’m sorry about Yunho.”
Jaejoong spits, rinses, straightens. “What about Yoochun, then?”
Younger Jaejoong grins, then, wide, pleased, like a kid in a candy store, and Jaejoong wonders if he ever looks half that annoyingly smug. “Oh, no, I’m not sorry for that.”
Jaejoong chooses to bare his teeth in reply.
---
Yoochun is only mildly surprised (but more than a little bit hurt, all the same) when Jaejoong avoids his gaze over breakfast, and when younger Jaejoong corners him after the dishes are cleared.
“I’m sorry”, Jaejoong says. The sweatshirt he’s wearing is Changmin’s, and too big, and Yoochun reaches out almost absently to adjust the garment before it can slip off one shoulder.
“What for?”
Jaejoong blinks. “For saying the things I did, of course.”
“But not for kissing me.” It’s not a question, and Jaejoong knows it.
“No.” Jaejoong’s smile is bright, infectious, eyes sparkling with barely suppressed mirth, and this look, Yoochun thinks, this one is almost identical-
“I’m not sorry for this, either”, Jaejoong says against his mouth; cuts Yoochun off mid-laugh.
---
Jaejoong is alone on the couch and most definitely not thinking of Yoochun, and of Jaejoong, when Jaejoong wanders in and settles in a sprawl of limbs next to him.
Jaejoong frowns and inches away so they’re most definitely not touching. “What do you want?”
His double sighs softly, eyes faraway, pensive. “I wish I could keep your Yoochun”, he says, voice quiet, quiet, wistful, and Jaejoong stiffens.
“Nope. Can’t. We need him here.”
Another sigh. “I thought so.”
Jaejoong can’t resist. “What’s your Yoochun like?”
A laugh, short, mirthless, cut off. “Smooth. Quite a talker. Bit of a bastard.”
“Oh.” Jaejoong shrugs. “Not so different from ours, then.”
---
Yoochun
I think I’ll be gone, soon.
I like you a lot better here than where I come from.
You should eat more.
Take care of yourself.
Kim Jaejoong
“Yoochun”, and Yoochun jumps like the guilty, piece of paper crumpling in his fist.
“Nothing?” He asks, and Jaejoong shakes his head mutely.
“Oh”, and then there’s a silence, and it’s awkward, and Yoochun hates that, because they’ve always been roommates, and it’s never been awkward like this, not even at the start.
“Changmin said”, Jaejoong pauses. “Changmin said maybe you thought it was me, that night.”
“No”, Yoochun shakes his head, “I knew. I knew, but he said I could pretend.”
“Oh”, Jaejoong says, and then he’s close, so close, “that’s okay, then.”
Kissing Jaejoong is different from kissing Jaejoong, so very, very different, only it’s so much better, like this, and he’s laughing when they draw apart, laughing and laughing and laughing.
“What?” Jaejoong demands, full lips almost pouting, clearly offended, and Yoochun fights for air, fights for the words.
“Different”, he manages, and Jaejoong’s eyes narrow dangerously.
“Good different, I hope.”
“I didn’t-” Yoochun rakes a hand through his hair irritably. “He looked so much like you, and-”
“Shut up”, Jaejoong says, mock stern, half on his lap now, “don’t you dare start talking about him now, because I swear, I’ll just-”
Jaejoong does tend to ramble, Yoochun thinks. Lucky for him that’s easily remedied, now.
“Because you’ll just what?”
“Shut up, Park Yoochun.”
Pairing: Jaejoong/Yoochun, implied Jaejoong/Yunho
Rating: PG-13
I...what? Idek. Written for ravenlock_3's prompt of Jaechun: scorned love as part of my DBSK pairings challenge here. There're still pairings unclaimed, so any prompts would help me so much <3 And, also, because I promised halcyon_morn fic before I leave tomorrow for a chalet, so, here, the doppelgänger fic of fail. I said I wouldn't do it, but Chris made me. Blame him, if you must.
“Jaejoong”, Junsu says, eyes wide, stricken, face pale, and Jaejoong doesn’t understand, because he is fine, and here, right here. ”Jaejoong”, Junsu repeats, more impatiently, finger jabbing furiously, and they all stand this time.
“Hello”, Jaejoong says from across the kitchen counter, and Jaejoong blinks. It’s his smile, faint, unsure, lips quirked awkwardly, his face, “coffee?”
“Yes, please”, Jaejoong says, surprised at how steady his voice sounds; arranges himself on a stool.
---
They’re watching the both of them, the other four, with Jaejoong manfully ignoring Changmin’s creased brow and Yunho’s distracted muttering. This Jaejoong is younger, shyer, paper napkin in hand, fingers shredding, shredding, shredding. It’s nervous, compulsive, and Jaejoong wishes he would stop.
He works in an office, Jaejoong tells them. He makes coffee, copies, reservations. It’s good coffee. Yoochun’s face is carefully blank, half hidden in his cup. Junsu has his head bowed, eyes closed, lips moving, and Jaejoong thinks he might be praying to wake up.
“Well”, Yunho says finally. “Well”, Jaejoong echoes, and waits. Changmin frowns.
“Does this mean we’re keeping him?”
Yunho shrugs, almost helplessly, and Jaejoong beams.
---
“This is a good thing.” Jaejoong tries his most disarming smile once they’re sure his double is out of earshot down the corridor. “He can go on interviews for me, things like that.”
Yunho sighs heavily. “He doesn’t speak Japanese, Jaejoong-ah.”
“Well, neither do I”, Jaejoong counters hotly, and Changmin chokes on his drink and nearly falls off his perch laughing.
“I”, Yunho takes a deep, steadying breath, “sleep”, and Junsu pats his arm sympathetically.
---
It’s a little strange sharing a bed with himself, Jaejoong confesses, head pillowed on Yunho’s thigh, even if this Jaejoong doesn’t exactly count as himself, since they’re not really all the same-
“Jaejoong”, Yunho begins, and he can hear the worry in the other boy’s voice without even having to look up, “I don’t think-”
They both sit up at the sound, the quiet exhale, the oh so soft it nearly dissipates into the corners of the room without reaching their ears. Jaejoong wonders if he’s ever looked like that. It’s an expression he can’t place, for all that it might as well be a mirror he’s looking at. It’s fleeting, transient, and then Jaejoong smiles, a brief flash of teeth, nods and then turns away.
“I should-” Jaejoong starts, then falters when he realizes Yunho isn’t moving, when he realizes Yunho hasn’t even noticed.
“Should what?”
Jaejoong frowns, stretches, settles back down. “Nothing.”
---
Yoochun’s reading, when the bedroom door opens to admit Jaejoong. Not their Jaejoong, as he’s come to think of him, not Youngwoong Jaejoong, just regular, ordinary old Kim Jaejoong. As ordinary as Kim Jaejoong can ever be, in any case.
“Yunho”, he says without preamble as he flops down on Jaejoong’s bed. “Does he…love your Jaejoong?”
Yoochun tries hard to keep the incredulity from his voice, and fails. ”What?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I-” Yoochun struggles with the words; scowls when Jaejoong just stares back at him, calm, implacable. “I suppose he does.”
“Oh.” Jaejoong turns onto his back, eyes now on the ceiling. “It’s different, where I come from.”
“Oh.” Yoochun crosses his arms, bites down hard on his lip; hates the way curiosity always gets the better of him. “Who does he love, over there?”
Jaejoong’s smile is wide, white, sardonic, and Yoochun wants to run away. “You”, he says, eyes dark, dark, unreadable, and Yoochun swallows.
“Oh.”
“Goodnight, Yoochun”, Jaejoong says; turns to face the wall.
---
There’s something amiss here, Yunho knows, because things like these just don’t happen-
Jaejoong’s lips are soft on his, his hands clawing, clawing, desperate, and Yunho thinks he understands, thinks he knows what a drowning man looks like, now.
“Stop”, he manages, hating how breathless he sounds, the heat of his cheeks. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” It’s not Jaejoong, he knows, not really, but Yunho wonders if he’ll ever be able to look Jaejoong in the eye again, after this. Jaejoong’s face is flushed, lips too red, and Yunho resists the urge to back away.
“Jaejoong, I don’t- I mean, we can’t-”
“Oh.” Jaejoong stills. “I thought-” He shakes his head, laughs softly under his breath. “I suppose some things stay the same, after all.”
“Jaejoong”, but Jaejoong evades his grasp easily.
“I’m going out”, Jaejoong calls over his shoulder, and Yunho almost makes a grab for him.
“Jaejoong, wait-”
---
Yoochun’s on the balcony blowing smoke rings into the wind when he hears the door sliding open.
“You lied to me”, Jaejoong slurs by his ear, and Yoochun jumps; stubs out his cigarette on the railing.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
Jaejoong laughs, too loud, and even here Yoochun can smell the alcohol on his breath. He’s swaying slightly on his feet, and Yoochun can feel his lip curl in distaste. In this, at least, they’re the same. “You lied to me”, Jaejoong repeats, and then he’s lurching drunkenly, too close to the edge, and Yoochun swears under his breath.
“Jaejoong, please”, and Yoochun’s not sure what he’s asking for, except he isn’t prepared to watch Jaejoong plummet ten stories to his death, much as he hates playing babysitter. Jaejoong laughs again as he stumbles closer.
“I know why, now. God, what a fucked up place this is.” Yoochun grunts as Jaejoong leans his weight on him. “I’ve seen you watching him”, Jaejoong says into his ear, low, low, coiling, darkly amused. “Him. Me. Jaejoong”, and Yoochun recoils.
“What-”
“I know why, now.” Jaejoong laughs again. “It’s because you love him, over here.”
“I don’t know what-”
“Come, now.” Jaejoong’s fingers are cold on the inside of his wrist, his breath hot, hot, hot on Yoochun’s cheek. “I know, and I think Changmin knows. Does he know?” Jaejoong’s gaze is sharp, sharp, eerily lucid. “We could pretend, if you like. Call me hyung, if you want. Anything.”
“You sick, sick bastard”, Yoochun’s throat is dry, so dry, fingers white knuckled on Jaejoong’s shirt. He could hit him, he could push him away, but Jaejoong is drunk, drunk drunk drunk. “I’m not that Yoochun-”
“No”, Jaejoong agrees, and Yoochun can feel the cold of the wrought iron digging into his lower back when Jaejoong kisses him. They’ve never done this, him and Jaejoong, even if this isn’t- Almost, but never, and this is wrong, wrong wrong wrong-
“Now”, Jaejoong says, pulling away, eyes wide in the dimness, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
---
“He kissed you.” Jaejoong repeats, slowly, carefully, testing the syllables on his tongue. “He cornered you and…kissed you.”
Yunho flushes, face half hidden by a handy cushion, and Junsu frowns. “I don’t get it.”
“Um, guys?” Changmin wanders in then, lips pressed into a thin line. “Jaejoong hyung and Yoochuh hyung are- Oh, hyung, you’re here. Not you, then.”
Jaejoong starts to stand. “Not me, what?”
“I thought it was you, but”, Changmin shrugs. “Your double’s out there making out with Yoochun hyung.”
”What?” Junsu shakes his head, face a mask of disbelief. “First Yunho hyung and now Yoochun?”
“Yoochun.” Jaejoong is grateful for the couch just two steps away. “But why would Yoochun-ah-”
“That’s none of our business”, Yunho declares decisively. ”No”, he says, and Junsu closes his mouth with a snap. “It’s late. We should all get to bed.”
Changmin’s hand is warm on his shoulder when he stops Jaejoong just outside the door to his room, his smile small, cryptic. “Maybe”, he says, soft, soft, soft, “maybe he thinks it’s you”, and Jaejoong shakes his head to show he doesn’t understand.
“Changmin-ah-”
“Sleep well, hyung.”
---
Jaejoong sleeps in Yoochun’s bed that night.
He’s still in the bathroom when Jaejoong enters, still bleary eyed and cranky after a night plagued with dreams of Yoochun and Yunho and his reflection stepping out of mirrors. “Hello”, Jaejoong says, neutrally enough, hair damp from the shower, and Jaejoong grunts in reply.
“I-” His double hesitates, and Jaejoong concentrates on brushing his teeth, gaze fixed squarely on the sink. “I’m sorry about Yunho.”
Jaejoong spits, rinses, straightens. “What about Yoochun, then?”
Younger Jaejoong grins, then, wide, pleased, like a kid in a candy store, and Jaejoong wonders if he ever looks half that annoyingly smug. “Oh, no, I’m not sorry for that.”
Jaejoong chooses to bare his teeth in reply.
---
Yoochun is only mildly surprised (but more than a little bit hurt, all the same) when Jaejoong avoids his gaze over breakfast, and when younger Jaejoong corners him after the dishes are cleared.
“I’m sorry”, Jaejoong says. The sweatshirt he’s wearing is Changmin’s, and too big, and Yoochun reaches out almost absently to adjust the garment before it can slip off one shoulder.
“What for?”
Jaejoong blinks. “For saying the things I did, of course.”
“But not for kissing me.” It’s not a question, and Jaejoong knows it.
“No.” Jaejoong’s smile is bright, infectious, eyes sparkling with barely suppressed mirth, and this look, Yoochun thinks, this one is almost identical-
“I’m not sorry for this, either”, Jaejoong says against his mouth; cuts Yoochun off mid-laugh.
---
Jaejoong is alone on the couch and most definitely not thinking of Yoochun, and of Jaejoong, when Jaejoong wanders in and settles in a sprawl of limbs next to him.
Jaejoong frowns and inches away so they’re most definitely not touching. “What do you want?”
His double sighs softly, eyes faraway, pensive. “I wish I could keep your Yoochun”, he says, voice quiet, quiet, wistful, and Jaejoong stiffens.
“Nope. Can’t. We need him here.”
Another sigh. “I thought so.”
Jaejoong can’t resist. “What’s your Yoochun like?”
A laugh, short, mirthless, cut off. “Smooth. Quite a talker. Bit of a bastard.”
“Oh.” Jaejoong shrugs. “Not so different from ours, then.”
---
Yoochun
I think I’ll be gone, soon.
I like you a lot better here than where I come from.
You should eat more.
Take care of yourself.
Kim Jaejoong
“Yoochun”, and Yoochun jumps like the guilty, piece of paper crumpling in his fist.
“Nothing?” He asks, and Jaejoong shakes his head mutely.
“Oh”, and then there’s a silence, and it’s awkward, and Yoochun hates that, because they’ve always been roommates, and it’s never been awkward like this, not even at the start.
“Changmin said”, Jaejoong pauses. “Changmin said maybe you thought it was me, that night.”
“No”, Yoochun shakes his head, “I knew. I knew, but he said I could pretend.”
“Oh”, Jaejoong says, and then he’s close, so close, “that’s okay, then.”
Kissing Jaejoong is different from kissing Jaejoong, so very, very different, only it’s so much better, like this, and he’s laughing when they draw apart, laughing and laughing and laughing.
“What?” Jaejoong demands, full lips almost pouting, clearly offended, and Yoochun fights for air, fights for the words.
“Different”, he manages, and Jaejoong’s eyes narrow dangerously.
“Good different, I hope.”
“I didn’t-” Yoochun rakes a hand through his hair irritably. “He looked so much like you, and-”
“Shut up”, Jaejoong says, mock stern, half on his lap now, “don’t you dare start talking about him now, because I swear, I’ll just-”
Jaejoong does tend to ramble, Yoochun thinks. Lucky for him that’s easily remedied, now.
“Because you’ll just what?”
“Shut up, Park Yoochun.”