one hundred dollars
One Hundred Dollars
Author: catchmyambition
Rating: PG13, for language
Genre: Angst/Romance
Pairing: Yoochun/Jaejoong
For omgcats who puts up with my lateness :D
I close my eyes as I let my head fall behind me with a little more force than necessary. The coolness from the wall that relieves the heat does nothing to relieve the fear gripping my heart. It's been thirty days. Thirty days. Each second feels like an eternity. I don't know where he is, if he's okay, if he's dead somewhere. I told him to do as much when I last saw him.
“How could you, Jaejoong, I don't understand. How can you stand there and lie to my face?” Yoochun screamed at the pile of limbs sprawled in a street corner. “How could you steal from me? From me! After everything I've done for you, you do this to me!”
“I'm not doing it to you, I'm not doing it to anyone. Can you please just shut up, I have a massive headac-”
“Good! I don't care if you have a fucking headache. How do you think it feels when I find out my boyfriend is stealing money from me to get fucking drunk every night?”
“My God, it's just a hundred dollars, I'll fucking pay you back next week if it's so damn important to you.”
“I don't fucking care about that. How do you think I feel when I go to your work to drop off the lunch you forgot and they tell me you quit more than a month ago? How do you think I feel when it's three in the morning and I have no idea where you're at because you left your cell phone in your apartment? How do you think I feel when I have to search every fucking bar in Seoul trying to find your ass? How do you think I feel when-”
“Well obviously pretty damn angry. We've established that, so can you just be quiet?”
“You just don't fucking get it, do you? I'm fucking sick and tired of you lying to me. You know what? Just do whatever. Don't bother coming home.”
I knew I had been too hard on him as soon as I turned away from him, I was just so angry. I went to his apartment that afternoon to apologize. He hardly ever used to use it, preferring to stay at my place. I knocked on the door to find it already slightly ajar. I opened it and immediately wished I hadn't. Everything was perfect, not a thing out of place. Dread filled me as I rummaged through the only messy place in the whole apartment - the coffee table. Magazines, pictures, memories of us, all piled on top one another.
I was calling his number, long since memorized, before I even realized I had taken my phone out. I wanna, wanna be where you are, any, any, anywhere you are. I wanna, wanna be where you are. I gotta, gotta be where you are. I felt sick as I heard the ringtone I had set for myself what seemed like an eternity ago rang throughout the small apartment. Like a man possessed, I searched everywhere, somehow thinking finding the phone was linked to finding him. My heart sank, my worst fear had come true. I had finally pushed him away.
So that's how I find myself thirty days later. I haven't been to work. I've only ate and showered when Junsu has forced me to. Most of the time I curl up in one of his shirts under covers that still smell like him.
It's the middle of the night when I'm woken up by a thunderstorm. I pull the covers over my head, trying to hold on to my dream. In it, he comes back. I've had it every night since he left.
I vaguely hear the sound of a door being opened and smile to myself. It always starts like this. I see him in the doorway, beautiful as ever - when I'm rudely interrupted by incessant shaking. It must be Junsu with breakfast. I turn over with a grunt, hoping he'll get the point. He doesn't, and seems to have taken up water torture as a tactic to get me up.
“Junsu, if you don't stop that right n-” My words die in my throat as the person I'm staring up at is definitely not Junsu.
“J-Jaejoong?” I whisper, almost scared he'll disappear if I say it louder.
“Were you expecting someone else?” he asks nervously.
“What are you - wait, why are you so wet?”
“I, uh, walked here. It's raining,” he shrugs.
“Why? Where's your car?” I ask, not fully convinced this is not a dream.
“I kind of sold it.”
“Huh? Why?”
“To give you this,” he says while shoving some wet paper into my hand. Upon closer look, I see it's money. A lot of money. One hundred dollars.
“I've, uh, been in rehab. I've been sober for twenty nine days and approximately three hours. I just wanted to ask for your forgiveness and I know you probably never want to see me again but I want you to know I really did and still do love you and -”
I cut him off with a kiss, unable to take the distance, however small, between us. “I love you too.”
We both knew being together didn't solve everything. Jaejoong had an addiction, and it wasn't going to magically disappear. But we knew we loved each other.
“So you really sold your car for a hundred dollars?”
“Yeah.”
“But Jae, you drove a Mercedes.”
“I know.”
“You're an idiot. Good night,” I smiled as I wrapped my arms around his waist.
Author: catchmyambition
Rating: PG13, for language
Genre: Angst/Romance
Pairing: Yoochun/Jaejoong
For omgcats who puts up with my lateness :D
I close my eyes as I let my head fall behind me with a little more force than necessary. The coolness from the wall that relieves the heat does nothing to relieve the fear gripping my heart. It's been thirty days. Thirty days. Each second feels like an eternity. I don't know where he is, if he's okay, if he's dead somewhere. I told him to do as much when I last saw him.
“How could you, Jaejoong, I don't understand. How can you stand there and lie to my face?” Yoochun screamed at the pile of limbs sprawled in a street corner. “How could you steal from me? From me! After everything I've done for you, you do this to me!”
“I'm not doing it to you, I'm not doing it to anyone. Can you please just shut up, I have a massive headac-”
“Good! I don't care if you have a fucking headache. How do you think it feels when I find out my boyfriend is stealing money from me to get fucking drunk every night?”
“My God, it's just a hundred dollars, I'll fucking pay you back next week if it's so damn important to you.”
“I don't fucking care about that. How do you think I feel when I go to your work to drop off the lunch you forgot and they tell me you quit more than a month ago? How do you think I feel when it's three in the morning and I have no idea where you're at because you left your cell phone in your apartment? How do you think I feel when I have to search every fucking bar in Seoul trying to find your ass? How do you think I feel when-”
“Well obviously pretty damn angry. We've established that, so can you just be quiet?”
“You just don't fucking get it, do you? I'm fucking sick and tired of you lying to me. You know what? Just do whatever. Don't bother coming home.”
I knew I had been too hard on him as soon as I turned away from him, I was just so angry. I went to his apartment that afternoon to apologize. He hardly ever used to use it, preferring to stay at my place. I knocked on the door to find it already slightly ajar. I opened it and immediately wished I hadn't. Everything was perfect, not a thing out of place. Dread filled me as I rummaged through the only messy place in the whole apartment - the coffee table. Magazines, pictures, memories of us, all piled on top one another.
I was calling his number, long since memorized, before I even realized I had taken my phone out. I wanna, wanna be where you are, any, any, anywhere you are. I wanna, wanna be where you are. I gotta, gotta be where you are. I felt sick as I heard the ringtone I had set for myself what seemed like an eternity ago rang throughout the small apartment. Like a man possessed, I searched everywhere, somehow thinking finding the phone was linked to finding him. My heart sank, my worst fear had come true. I had finally pushed him away.
So that's how I find myself thirty days later. I haven't been to work. I've only ate and showered when Junsu has forced me to. Most of the time I curl up in one of his shirts under covers that still smell like him.
It's the middle of the night when I'm woken up by a thunderstorm. I pull the covers over my head, trying to hold on to my dream. In it, he comes back. I've had it every night since he left.
I vaguely hear the sound of a door being opened and smile to myself. It always starts like this. I see him in the doorway, beautiful as ever - when I'm rudely interrupted by incessant shaking. It must be Junsu with breakfast. I turn over with a grunt, hoping he'll get the point. He doesn't, and seems to have taken up water torture as a tactic to get me up.
“Junsu, if you don't stop that right n-” My words die in my throat as the person I'm staring up at is definitely not Junsu.
“J-Jaejoong?” I whisper, almost scared he'll disappear if I say it louder.
“Were you expecting someone else?” he asks nervously.
“What are you - wait, why are you so wet?”
“I, uh, walked here. It's raining,” he shrugs.
“Why? Where's your car?” I ask, not fully convinced this is not a dream.
“I kind of sold it.”
“Huh? Why?”
“To give you this,” he says while shoving some wet paper into my hand. Upon closer look, I see it's money. A lot of money. One hundred dollars.
“I've, uh, been in rehab. I've been sober for twenty nine days and approximately three hours. I just wanted to ask for your forgiveness and I know you probably never want to see me again but I want you to know I really did and still do love you and -”
I cut him off with a kiss, unable to take the distance, however small, between us. “I love you too.”
We both knew being together didn't solve everything. Jaejoong had an addiction, and it wasn't going to magically disappear. But we knew we loved each other.
“So you really sold your car for a hundred dollars?”
“Yeah.”
“But Jae, you drove a Mercedes.”
“I know.”
“You're an idiot. Good night,” I smiled as I wrapped my arms around his waist.