Fic: Facets, Chapter 1
Title: Facets, Chapter 1
Pairing: Jaejoong/Yunho
Rating: PG-13, for now
Summary: AU fic! Yunho struggles with his feelings for Jaejoong, and wakes up in an alternate reality where he...also meets Jaejoong. Except this Jaejoong is quite different from the one he knows. Also involves secrets and grappling with the truth.
Born from a brainstorming session with my friend online! And just, this is so weird and I hope I actually finish this, just. Comments much appreciated <3
Yunho isn’t sure when it turned from disbelief to frantic denial, but he does know it’s now about running away, and Jung Yunho’s always hated running away.
He ignores Yoochun’s sympathetic looks, Junsu’s pointed grimaces and Changmin’s huffs and low declarations, muttered under his breath just audible enough for Yunho to hear, about how stupid his hyungs can be. Yunho smiles, grits his teeth, continues to shy away when Jaejoong comes too close, back and back and back. It’s harder when it’s just the two of them, when there isn’t one of the others to fill the spaces between them, when Jaejoong touches him, fleetingly, hand on forearm or hip or waist, asks if he’s alright. Yunho smiles then, his face stretching so much it hurts, lies between his teeth. He ignores the spark in Jaejoong’s eyes, the minute compression of the lips, the fact that Jaejoong knows. Jaejoong reads him like an open book. Yunho laughs, smiles, disentangles himself, escapes. Runs.
Yunho collects coins, coins that he finds and picks up and saves. It’s almost compulsive, the way he fills up piggy banks and empty containers with them, the way they lie in discreet corners of the apartment, of the bedroom. He’s sifting through his latest haul for the week when he spots it, larger than the rest, shinier, as if newly minted. It is dim in the bedroom, but still relatively early; he can hear the others outside laughing at some game show or other. Yunho pauses, picks it up, twirls it experimentally between his fingers. It’s heavier than any coin he’s ever picked up, smoother. Yunho frowns.
“This…is weird.” He laughs at himself, shakes his head. “God, U-know Yunho, you’ve cracked. You’re actually talking to yourself.” He twirls it again, watches as it catches the dim light of the lamp, notices the faintly stamped words on the back.
“August 6. 1006.” Well, now. Very strange. Yunho hefts his latest container and prepares to slot the coin in anyway when the room spins.
He contemplates calling out for help, wonders if he’s just overworked, wonders if he’ll faint, when there is dizzying vertigo, a sense of being shoved sideways, blessed darkness.
---
“Sir? Sir, wake up.”
Yunho groans, pulls the covers closer around himself. “Five more minutes, Jaejoong-ah.”
“Sir? It’s Junhwan, not Jaejoong.”
Yunho opens his eyes just as his thoughts begin to reassert themselves. Four poster bed, close enough, but with hangings. White, white walls. He sits up. Carpeting. Wide screen television on the opposite wall. Strange young man standing next to the bed, concerned frown marring his otherwise exquisitely pretty features.
“Where is this?” He manages, quite stupidly, he realizes, judging by the alarmed look on the other man’s face.
“At home, sir. This is your bedroom.”
Bedroom. Right. Except it certainly isn’t his. He wonders if this is some elaborate prank, and peers suspiciously in the corners for hidden cameras. Then he wonders if this isn’t just the aftermath of a heavy, mindless drinking session. Except he doesn’t remember ingesting any alcohol. He’s sure it isn’t a dream. Well, fairly sure, anyway.
And sir. Nobody calls him sir. Yunho eyes the other man, now biting his full lower lip anxiously, sizes him up. “I need a phone”, he says, carefully, watches as he breaks into a relieved smile.
“Right away, sir. Though you have to get dressed, sir, it’s time to pick out your new staff.”
Staff? Yunho climbs out of bed, realizes he’s in a shirt and jeans, and decides it’ll do. The other man is back with the sleekest contraption Yunho’s ever laid eyes on, and he flips open the phone carefully, marveling at the design, the colours, the smoothness of the keys. He dials quickly, allows himself to be ushered out of the room.
Nothing. He dials again, Yoochun’s cell phone this time, and again nothing. He tries all their numbers just in case -the members’, his home in the country, the manager hyung’s, SM Entertainment, even the Super Junior dorm- before giving up with a frustrated growl. They stop by a door, and Yunho pauses when Junhwan raises a palm, presses it flat to some panel on the wall, almost gasps when the glass door slides open smoothly. This is too surreal, he thinks hazily, and then they’re in.
He notes the tastefully done furnishings, in white and dark brown, notes the line of young men standing by the full length glass windows, hands clasped like penitents. There are men in all four corners of the room and Yunho recognizes bodyguards at first sight. The man on the couch has silver in his hair, lines in his face, a pompous swagger to his walk. He stands up, reaches out to clap Yunho on the shoulder.
“Ah, Yunho, you’re here. Well? What do you think?”
Yunho is at least fast enough on the uptake to realize it’s a question that demands an immediate answer. “Er. Very… nice.”
The man beams as Yunho’s just bestowed a personal compliment on him. “I knew you’d approve. Well, take your pick. Or do you want them all?” He laughs, and Yunho forces a weak chuckle in reply, follows the line of his upraised arm.
What was it Junhwan had said? Oh, right, staff. For what, he isn’t sure, and- Jaejoong. Right there, near the end of the line, and blond. Yunho wonders when Jaejoong found the time to go to the salon, but the mere fact that Jaejoong is here is enough to send him nearly gibbering with relief, surely he knows something, but then Jaejoong is looking right back at him, as if feeling his gaze on his skin, and Yunho fights back a rising wave of panic. There is cool neutrality in that gaze, and not a single trace of recognition. He’s forcefully reminded of the first time he met Jaejoong, the apprehension and his growing uncertainty, faced with that marble cold disregard, and has to force himself to tear his eyes away when the man frowns.
“Is something wrong?”
“N- no. Him.” Yunho points, wildly, hoping he can somehow get away with it. “Just him, it’s fine, look, I’ll take him now, show him around-” He realizes he’s babbling, but no one’s making a move to stop him, or to enquire. Jaejoong looks up in surprise when Yunho grasps his forearm, starts tugging him towards the door. Behind him he can hear the man laughing indulgently, “Impatient, are we, Yunho?” and while Yunho has no idea what he’s talking about he has no intention to find out, just yet. There are far more pressing issues at hand here. Like just where the hell they are, and where the others are, and all these people calling him sir, and-
Somehow Yunho manages to remember the way back to the bedroom. They pass countless corridors and Yunho has to stop and wonder just how huge this ridiculous place is, when they stop by the door. At least, he hopes it’s the right door. He searches for a doorknob, finds none, remembers what Junhwan did earlier, and hesitantly reaches out to place a palm on the panel at the side. To his utter relief it works. The door is barely sliding closed behind Jaejoong before Yunho is whirling on him, confused at the other boy’s fleeting look of alarm.
“I-”
“I understand, sir.” The smooth mask is back, the voice controlled, measured. Yunho steps back as Jaejoong starts moving forward; falls with an undignified thump when the backs of his legs hit the mattress.
Jaejoong’s hands are on his shirt, fingers deftly undoing the buttons before shrugging the shirt off. While he’s seen Jaejoong shirtless countless times this is too bizarre to even warrant a question. Yunho can only gape when Jaejoong moves closer, bends close to speak by his ear.
“I’ll start now, shall I?”
Pairing: Jaejoong/Yunho
Rating: PG-13, for now
Summary: AU fic! Yunho struggles with his feelings for Jaejoong, and wakes up in an alternate reality where he...also meets Jaejoong. Except this Jaejoong is quite different from the one he knows. Also involves secrets and grappling with the truth.
Born from a brainstorming session with my friend online! And just, this is so weird and I hope I actually finish this, just. Comments much appreciated <3
Yunho isn’t sure when it turned from disbelief to frantic denial, but he does know it’s now about running away, and Jung Yunho’s always hated running away.
He ignores Yoochun’s sympathetic looks, Junsu’s pointed grimaces and Changmin’s huffs and low declarations, muttered under his breath just audible enough for Yunho to hear, about how stupid his hyungs can be. Yunho smiles, grits his teeth, continues to shy away when Jaejoong comes too close, back and back and back. It’s harder when it’s just the two of them, when there isn’t one of the others to fill the spaces between them, when Jaejoong touches him, fleetingly, hand on forearm or hip or waist, asks if he’s alright. Yunho smiles then, his face stretching so much it hurts, lies between his teeth. He ignores the spark in Jaejoong’s eyes, the minute compression of the lips, the fact that Jaejoong knows. Jaejoong reads him like an open book. Yunho laughs, smiles, disentangles himself, escapes. Runs.
Yunho collects coins, coins that he finds and picks up and saves. It’s almost compulsive, the way he fills up piggy banks and empty containers with them, the way they lie in discreet corners of the apartment, of the bedroom. He’s sifting through his latest haul for the week when he spots it, larger than the rest, shinier, as if newly minted. It is dim in the bedroom, but still relatively early; he can hear the others outside laughing at some game show or other. Yunho pauses, picks it up, twirls it experimentally between his fingers. It’s heavier than any coin he’s ever picked up, smoother. Yunho frowns.
“This…is weird.” He laughs at himself, shakes his head. “God, U-know Yunho, you’ve cracked. You’re actually talking to yourself.” He twirls it again, watches as it catches the dim light of the lamp, notices the faintly stamped words on the back.
“August 6. 1006.” Well, now. Very strange. Yunho hefts his latest container and prepares to slot the coin in anyway when the room spins.
He contemplates calling out for help, wonders if he’s just overworked, wonders if he’ll faint, when there is dizzying vertigo, a sense of being shoved sideways, blessed darkness.
---
“Sir? Sir, wake up.”
Yunho groans, pulls the covers closer around himself. “Five more minutes, Jaejoong-ah.”
“Sir? It’s Junhwan, not Jaejoong.”
Yunho opens his eyes just as his thoughts begin to reassert themselves. Four poster bed, close enough, but with hangings. White, white walls. He sits up. Carpeting. Wide screen television on the opposite wall. Strange young man standing next to the bed, concerned frown marring his otherwise exquisitely pretty features.
“Where is this?” He manages, quite stupidly, he realizes, judging by the alarmed look on the other man’s face.
“At home, sir. This is your bedroom.”
Bedroom. Right. Except it certainly isn’t his. He wonders if this is some elaborate prank, and peers suspiciously in the corners for hidden cameras. Then he wonders if this isn’t just the aftermath of a heavy, mindless drinking session. Except he doesn’t remember ingesting any alcohol. He’s sure it isn’t a dream. Well, fairly sure, anyway.
And sir. Nobody calls him sir. Yunho eyes the other man, now biting his full lower lip anxiously, sizes him up. “I need a phone”, he says, carefully, watches as he breaks into a relieved smile.
“Right away, sir. Though you have to get dressed, sir, it’s time to pick out your new staff.”
Staff? Yunho climbs out of bed, realizes he’s in a shirt and jeans, and decides it’ll do. The other man is back with the sleekest contraption Yunho’s ever laid eyes on, and he flips open the phone carefully, marveling at the design, the colours, the smoothness of the keys. He dials quickly, allows himself to be ushered out of the room.
Nothing. He dials again, Yoochun’s cell phone this time, and again nothing. He tries all their numbers just in case -the members’, his home in the country, the manager hyung’s, SM Entertainment, even the Super Junior dorm- before giving up with a frustrated growl. They stop by a door, and Yunho pauses when Junhwan raises a palm, presses it flat to some panel on the wall, almost gasps when the glass door slides open smoothly. This is too surreal, he thinks hazily, and then they’re in.
He notes the tastefully done furnishings, in white and dark brown, notes the line of young men standing by the full length glass windows, hands clasped like penitents. There are men in all four corners of the room and Yunho recognizes bodyguards at first sight. The man on the couch has silver in his hair, lines in his face, a pompous swagger to his walk. He stands up, reaches out to clap Yunho on the shoulder.
“Ah, Yunho, you’re here. Well? What do you think?”
Yunho is at least fast enough on the uptake to realize it’s a question that demands an immediate answer. “Er. Very… nice.”
The man beams as Yunho’s just bestowed a personal compliment on him. “I knew you’d approve. Well, take your pick. Or do you want them all?” He laughs, and Yunho forces a weak chuckle in reply, follows the line of his upraised arm.
What was it Junhwan had said? Oh, right, staff. For what, he isn’t sure, and- Jaejoong. Right there, near the end of the line, and blond. Yunho wonders when Jaejoong found the time to go to the salon, but the mere fact that Jaejoong is here is enough to send him nearly gibbering with relief, surely he knows something, but then Jaejoong is looking right back at him, as if feeling his gaze on his skin, and Yunho fights back a rising wave of panic. There is cool neutrality in that gaze, and not a single trace of recognition. He’s forcefully reminded of the first time he met Jaejoong, the apprehension and his growing uncertainty, faced with that marble cold disregard, and has to force himself to tear his eyes away when the man frowns.
“Is something wrong?”
“N- no. Him.” Yunho points, wildly, hoping he can somehow get away with it. “Just him, it’s fine, look, I’ll take him now, show him around-” He realizes he’s babbling, but no one’s making a move to stop him, or to enquire. Jaejoong looks up in surprise when Yunho grasps his forearm, starts tugging him towards the door. Behind him he can hear the man laughing indulgently, “Impatient, are we, Yunho?” and while Yunho has no idea what he’s talking about he has no intention to find out, just yet. There are far more pressing issues at hand here. Like just where the hell they are, and where the others are, and all these people calling him sir, and-
Somehow Yunho manages to remember the way back to the bedroom. They pass countless corridors and Yunho has to stop and wonder just how huge this ridiculous place is, when they stop by the door. At least, he hopes it’s the right door. He searches for a doorknob, finds none, remembers what Junhwan did earlier, and hesitantly reaches out to place a palm on the panel at the side. To his utter relief it works. The door is barely sliding closed behind Jaejoong before Yunho is whirling on him, confused at the other boy’s fleeting look of alarm.
“I-”
“I understand, sir.” The smooth mask is back, the voice controlled, measured. Yunho steps back as Jaejoong starts moving forward; falls with an undignified thump when the backs of his legs hit the mattress.
Jaejoong’s hands are on his shirt, fingers deftly undoing the buttons before shrugging the shirt off. While he’s seen Jaejoong shirtless countless times this is too bizarre to even warrant a question. Yunho can only gape when Jaejoong moves closer, bends close to speak by his ear.
“I’ll start now, shall I?”