[SECRET SANTA] All The Sins We've Suffered
Title: All The Sins We've Suffered
Pairings: JaeChun (main) / JaeHo / JaeChun
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mainly sick & twisted. NOT happy reading before Xmas...
Genre: Angst / Dark / Horror / Hints of smut
A/N: Secret Santa fic for jaeyang09 . Probably not exactly what you were looking for but I...tried? =___= These fics started with Sins based off of a prompt given by rain_streaked ages ago & I decided to expand on it. All in all, 3 connected one-shots. Read Sins first, then Sins - The Before and then Sins - The After.
Summary: Jaejoong was made of sin, real and imagined.
( Sins )
Sins - The Before
Jaejoong was all about secret smiles and stolen cigarettes at the back of the gym. About a face too oddly beautiful that it hurt to look at and a mouth dirtier than any alley. About the only one willing enough to talk to that strange, scrawny kid who came back from America and had a funny accent and the one to hit Changmin back when the youngest got a little too violent to remember that not everyone was freakishly strong as he was but most of all, Jaejoong was all Jaejoong.
Of sculpted limbs and ivory skin and pouty lips and casually deliberate swipes of a pink tongue and madness and crazy love and Park Yoochun didn’t need any god to save him because he was right there and Jaejoong was the craziest of them all.
---
Yoochun thought that Jaejoong was insane. Or, well, insaner because really, Jae? The school president? But then Jaejoong would smile that odd half-smile that no one, no one but him got to see and fuck him for a soft idiot because he relented. “Fine,” he grunted, sucking furiously on his cigarette, muttering a “fuck you, get your own” when the other boy swiped it, lips wrapped around the filter like it was his cock.
Jung Yunho was too prissy, too good, too much of an A-student to really handle Kim Jaejoong and his crazy ways but who was he to say anything. What Jaejoong wanted, Jaejoong got. And Jaejoong wanted Jung Yunho because Jung Yunho wanted him.
Or well, Jung Yunho didn’t know that he wanted Kim Jaejoong but eh, it was all semantics in the end.
Because what Jaejoong wants, Jaejoong gets.
---
Yoochun couldn’t tell for sure when he fell in love with the other boy but did it matter? He was, is, end of story. No, it wasn’t the way Jaejoong could stand on the cafeteria chair and belt out old school k-pop and got out of cleaning the toilets by flashing a smile at the principal. It wasn’t even the way Jaejoong would laugh, loud and long and always at the wrong time over the wrong things. It wasn’t even the way Jaejoong’s skin would glide underneath his fingertips so soft and smooth, better than any girl’s (and he had had a lot of girls, so he would know, okay?) and how the other boy would insist to anyone and everyone that they were soulmates because who else would Kim Jaejoong deserve but the best and Park Yoochun was the best and no I don’t want to play football, Junsu. Cigarette?
But yes, it started with love and it ended with love.
Some days, Yoochun thought he was pretty damn lucky and on some days, he thought he was fucking lucky and Jaejoong and he would laugh at the devil.
Because what Jaejoong wants, Jaejoong gets.
---
He didn’t know how he survived, much less function in the days after. Where there was life and vibrancy and a whirlpool that caught him up in a force too strong to deny, there was only placid waters he didn’t know how to handle now that his world wasn’t constantly in kaleidoscope motion. He knew he ate, drank, slept, smoked and fucked but he might as well be dead. No girl’s skin could compare to Jaejoong’s, no alcohol could taste as good as Jaejoong’s mouth, fucking cliché as it was and no one, not Junsu not Changmin not, okay, not even Yunho because fine the guy did grow some balls and kind of wormed his way into their circle, but no one could fill the void that slowly, and steadily devoured everything that was ParkYoochunKimJaejoong and left behind only Yoochun and frankly, Yoochun didn’t know who Yoochun was anymore and he didn’t really want to get to know Yoochun, this empty shell of a man.
Junsu had said to him, one day, “Let him go, Yoochun. It’s not…” Biting his lower lip worriedly, a frown creasing a face too used to smiles, Junsu offered, hesitantly, as if he was afraid the wrong word might cause the shell that was Yoochun to shatter into a million unfixable pieces, “It’s been over ten years. Let him go. Let him rest in peace. Pray to God.” So earnest, their Junsu. So fucking earnest and sincere. “Going to church will help,” the other man insisted, gently, real concern shining in his eyes. “Jaejoong is in a better place now.”
For the first time in his life, Yoochun wanted to hit Junsu. Hit hit hit hit hit hit until there was nothing left but a mess of broken bones and torn limbs and blood all over his floor.
But he didn’t.
He smiled instead, and said, quietly, “I’ll try.”
---
There was never any soul-baring declaration. Yoochun wasn’t into those hundred days celebration, the planned events, the bragging of how he reduced his girlfriend into happy tears at his thoughtfulness and he suspected that if he tried any of that crap with Jaejoong, the other boy would laugh. Loudly.
There was no need to tell Jaejoong I love you when it was pretty fucking clear. He didn’t need words shaped by mouth, tongue, throat and air to know that this? This was right. He didn’t give a shit about what his mom would think because why should he give a damn about someone who never really cared in the first place? Jaejoong’s was easier; a mother working twelve hours every day and a father who’d long ago abandoned his responsibilities.
As far as non-confessions went, theirs was pretty easy. Shared cigarettes, shared drinks, fingers laced tightly together and jumbled sentences and half-formed ideas that the other would get, immediately. Changmin complained that they spoke an alien language because honestly, who the hell really understood either of them when they were on a fucking high like this? (And Yoochun was rather proud of himself for Changmin’s colourful vocabulary that got dirtier as the years go by)
Yoochun was happy and he didn’t thank anyone. No god, no devil, only Jaejoong. Because Jaejoong had wanted him.
Because what Jaejoong wants, Jaejoong gets.
---
“There is no God.”
---
The first time after Jaejoong and Yunho had sex, and Yunho had left, sneaking out of the Kim’s house like some pervert in the middle of the night, Yoochun had lain in that same, warm bed. Jaejoong had changed the sheets, of course, because whatever Jaejoong was, a slob he wasn’t and Yoochun stretched, cat-like, sighing when a warm hand snuck under his shirt, teasing a line across his skin. “Was he good?” he had asked, interested because really, they did it just an hour ago on this very bed and you can’t blame a guy for being curious.
Jaejoong had huffed a quiet laugh, even as he tugged impatiently and Yoochun willingly obliged, shrugging off his clothes (Jaejoong was as naked as the day he was born, the marks Yunho had left stark-clear on his pale skin). “Not bad for a virgin,” Jaejoong murmured, dark eyes watching every twitch, cataloguing every reaction, smiling at every shiver he induced when he tweaked, stroked, pressed, bit.
Yoochun gave back as good as he got though, flipping Jaejoong over, opting for hard and fast because fuck, the thought of Kim Jaejoong fucking the straight-laced, prim and proper proud firstborn son of the Jungs was hot. He pinched where Jaejoong tweaked, scratched where Jaejoong stroked, pounded where Jaejoong pressed, cut where Jaejoong bit.
He didn’t need to ask like some insecure little girl whether it now meant Jaejoong loved Yunho more than him. What a stupid question to ask, really. There was only Jaejoong. And there was him. And there was Jaejoong and him. And there was everything that Jaejoong wanted.
Because what Jaejoong wants, Jaejoong gets.
---
When Yoochun saw Jaejoong’s ghost, he thought he was going insane.
Well, he was already insane but, eh, semantics.
Yoochun blinked rapidly, wondering if the UV film he had installed for his floor to ceiling windows for his apartment was somehow broken. Or something.
Fuck you.
The ghost of his fucking other half and screw the cheesy shit was sitting on the foot of his bed, looking exactly like he did, the day before he died, and smiling smiling smiling.
When Yoochun was sure it wasn’t a figment of his imagination, or the UV film, or the bourbon he had last night and this morning (Changmin never could figure out whether he was a functioning alcoholic or just never meant to live beyond the age of thirty - shit, he loved how fucked up the youngest got, as the years go by and he kind of thought Jaejoong would laugh too, if Jaejoong was alive) but Jaejoong wasn’t and when Yoochun finally accepted that what he saw was real, Yoochun cried.
“Thank you,” he wept into hands long drenched with tears. “Thank you.”
---
Jaejoong was all about secret smiles and stolen cigarettes at the back of the gym, about a face too oddly beautiful that it hurt to look at and a mouth dirtier than any alley, the only one willing enough to talk to that strange, scrawny kid who came back from America and had a funny accent and the one to hit Changmin back when the youngest got a little too violent to remember that not everyone was freakishly strong as he was, of sculpted limbs and ivory skin and pouty lips and casually deliberate swipes of a pink tongue and madness and crazy love and Park Yoochun didn’t need any god to save him because he was right there and Jaejoong was the craziest of them all and so much more because Jaejoong was just as beautiful in bloody death as he was in vibrant life even if his heart felt torn into mangled shreds.
---
When Yunho had confessed to him about seeing Jaejoong’s ghost, Yoochun had smiled a little because see? Further proof that this was all real and not something gone the next day when he woke up, reaching for someone who wasn’t there anymore. But then Yunho had cried, had asked for forgiveness before any sin was confessed and because Yoochun was happy, Yoochun said okay, alright.
And then Yunho told him and for a while, there was only the roaring of a hungry, angry monster in his ears, of a demon that howled in the pit of his stomach and there was Jaejoong, beautiful Jaejoong, smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling behind Yunho’s shoulder and the world was calm and silent again and Yoochun said, to a hopeful Yunho, “I forgive you.”
But Yoochun lied.
And he cried too.
But not for the reason you thought.
And Jaejoong, standing at that corner right behind your shoulder, smiled.
--The End--
Sins - The After
The sun shone.
Birds sang.
There was a dead body by his feet.
Jaejoong was
smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling.
Yoochun was happy.
Blood pooled thickly on Yunho’s formerly nice Persian rug, soaking into the hardwood floors and Yoochun wiggled his toes experimentally. Yunho’s blood was warm, well, getting cool now, and slightly viscous and all was right with the world.
“I’ll need to make a call,” Yoochun said lightly, tossing a smile over his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll get into any trouble though,” he assured, stepping lightly over the mess that Yunho had made of his apartment. Yoochun tsked, shaking his head at the indisputable truth that in the end, it was ParkYoochunKimJaejoong all the way and Jung Yunho was a fucking idiot to thought he could have controlled the blackhole that was Jaejoong. Crying like a fucking baby just because he wouldn’t stop seeing Jaejoong’s ghost? Yoochun snorted. Yunho should have counted himself blessed to have seen Jaejoong at all.
He cleared his throat, trying for the appropriate tone of voice and shit, he should be crying right? That was easy; all he had to do was glance at the cooling body slumped in a lifeless mess on the floor and he was crying. He was fucking crying like a baby because fuck, it felt good.
“H-hello,” he wept into the receiver, sobbing harder when the operator at the other end tried to calm him down sir, what is the nature of your emergency?. “Please, someone h-help me. My friend, he isn’t breathing and oh god there’s so much blood and his wrists oh my god I think he tried to kill himself please send someone over, hurry!”
Yoochun kept crying, even as sirens grew louder and louder and laughed a little before the paramedics and the cops broke down the door because fuck, Yunho, how ridiculously easy it was to convince the broken man to pick up a shard from the glass he had broken earlier because yes this is the only way to atone for your sin, Yunho-yah. It’s the only way to get him to leave you alone. Yoochun wept into his hands stained red by blood even as the paramedics tried to calm him down I think he’s going into shock no not really but he did have an act to keep up and later, later when Yunho’s body was lying cold in the ground and worms would start to feast on his decomposing flesh, Yoochun would dance on his grave and Jaejoong would be
smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling smiling.
--This is really the end--
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