Stupid Lies: Let It All Burn Down
Title: Stupid Lies: Let It All Burn Down
Chapter: 4 (of ?)
Pairing: Jinyoung/Jaebum, Jinyoung/Mark
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 2835
Summary: The third installment to the Bleeding Love Saga. It follows Bleeding Love: Stupid Questions and Bleeding Love: Stupid Cliches. It would be beneficial to read both of those first. AU.
[And unlike the movie title, hope doesn’t float; it drowns.]
I’m still using Jaebum and Jinyoung, except in cases for when someone is directly speaking to them and in that case, I’ll use JB and Junior respectively.
_____________
I’m in California dreaming about who we used to be
when we were younger and free.
I forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet.
There's such a difference between us and a million miles.
“Hello” by Adele
-
I tell my empty heart that it’s a fool
“Why can’t I cry even though I’m in pain?”
//
Everything underneath the sky and the moon sunk in.
Nothing seems to be the way it used to be
except me who lost you.
“Sleepless Night” by SHINee
_____________
The dictionary definition of breathing: the process of taking air into and expelling it from the lungs. As we breathe in our diaphragm contracts downward, creating a vacuum that causes a rush of fresh air into the lungs, while with exhalation, our diaphragm relaxes upwards, pushing air out of the lungs. It’s an act we take for granted, something we don’t think about ninety-nine percent of the time we are awake.
But the moment he spots Jinyoung walking down the hallway in his direction, it’s as if he forgets how to breathe. Everything comes to a standstill, his heart and lungs included, and oh, God he can feel the rise of panic starting to set in along with the very real and Darwinian survival instinct of fight-or-flight.
Through the muddled mess of his mind, he can hear Youngjae asking if he’s okay and he forces himself to take in a shaky breath one after another until he feels slightly steadier on his feet as his initial panic begins to ebb. Then Jinyoung is standing before him, and it’s weird. Really really fucking weird and surreal and almost alternate universe-like to see Jinyoung standing a few steps away - that if he wanted to, if he dared to, he could reach out and touch Jinyoung and it wouldn’t be some dream or made-up illusion that would shatter into nothingness like candy confetti falling from a beaten piñata.
It’s been seven years, and it shouldn’t be possible that Jinyoung looks almost exactly the same. It’s been seven years, and it shouldn’t be possible that his heart reacts the very same way that it always did whenever Jinyoung was near. It shouldn’t be possible, yet it is.
“You’re back?”
“You’re Junior?”
Two questions, stupid questions really, stating the obvious. Over the years, his mind would drift during the lonely hours of nightfall and he would lay in bed imagining meeting Jinyoung again; how it would go, what he would say, what Jinyoung would say. On the good nights he would fall asleep with a smile on his face, after thinking up scenarios that could easily rival any romantic drama and put it to shame in how very perfect and wonderful their first meeting would be and what it could lead to in the future. Most often though, his dreams turned into nightmares. Nightmares that left him curled up in bed with his eyes clenched tight to stem the tears that fell like rain, because he knew without a doubt the reunion scenes which led to heartbreak and were the complete opposite of everything bright and happy and good were the ones far more likely to happen.
And here he is now, feeling like he’s on the edge of a cliff, suspended in the air and floating between dream and nightmare. One word, one action and he’d slip and fall without any safety net to catch him.
“You two know each other?” Youngjae asks, reminding them of the fact they are not alone.
“Yes,” Jaebum replies just as Jinyoung answers, “No.”
And with that one-word answer, it’s all Jaebum needs to know about the direction this meeting will take. Not that he expected anything different, but hope is a funny funny thing. As much as he tried to kill, crush, light on fire and burn to the ground any remaining trace of hope he had in regards to Jinyoung, a tiny tiny spark stayed kindled deep in his heart. A tiny spark that just had a metaphorical ocean’s worth of water tossed over it to extinguish it once and for all. And unlike the movie title, hope doesn’t float; it drowns.
Sensing the confusion their conflicting answers brought Youngjae, Jinyoung concedes after a moment. “We did… but that was a long time ago.”
Uncertain and not wanting to create further tension, Youngjae’s more than grateful to remember the director’s earlier request. “Ah, I almost forgot… Mr. Baldwin wants to see you in his office, Junior.”
Jinyoung’s face displays his welcome relief to have an excuse to make a fast exit and he does so without another word or backward glance.
Silence descends upon them for the first time since meeting one another and Youngjae gives Jaebum a small smile of encouragement. “Should we continue-”
“Hey, sorry,” Jaebum interjects, cutting Youngjae off abruptly. “I uh- actually do you mind, I think I left my car unlocked so I should probably go and, yeah I should go and check it…”
“Oh.” Recognizing Jaebum may want a few moments to himself, Youngjae hurries to assure him it’s fine.
And then Jaebum is gone and Youngjae is left alone to wonder what just happened.
-
He barely manages to make it to the elevator and out the lobby and back into the much-too-bright sun-filled sky before his legs nearly give out on him. It takes a moment to steady himself and he walks toward his car, clicking the unlock button on his key remote before climbing inside. It’s hot and stuffy in the car but it barely registers in his mind.
His hand reaches up and rests over his heart, as if to soothe the ache that never fully went away or stopped.
All the lies, all the fucking lies he told himself, come back in full force like hurling insults - laughing manically to taunt him at what a complete and utter fool he had been to even pretend to believe them. The lies he told himself over and over again - that he was over Jinyoung, that he had moved on, that he was perfectly okay, that he wasn’t broken and beyond repair - all things he knew to not be self-evident truths. Instead, he repeatedly chose to ignore the reality that for him Jinyoung would always be his favorite drug, his favorite mistake, his favorite everything.
-
It’s almost an hour later, after meeting up with Youngjae and apologizing to him for suddenly disappearing and brushing off the incident as not a big deal, that he finds himself in a room alone with Jinyoung for the first time in years. They’re in Jinyoung’s office and Jaebum takes a quick look around the room. Framed and hung on the wall are Jinyoung’s music therapy license and his NYU diploma. The bookcase in the corner is overflowing with books and trade journals, while his desk is relatively clean and uncluttered. There’s a lone plant close to the window - he’s not sure what kind, he’d never been good at differentiating between plant species - but even with that, the room still feels lifeless. There is no artwork and no personal mementos anywhere that he can see.
Jinyoung had closed the door after they both entered, and although there are two chairs on the other side of Jinyoung’s desk, Jaebum decides to remain standing until he’s offered a seat. The air surrounding them is suffocating with a mix of uneasiness (how do you start a conversation when you don’t know where to start?) and awareness (it’s been over seven years but the past, in all its fucked-up glory, still hangs heavily between them).
“How’s Mark?” is what comes out of his mouth before his brain can scream, ‘abort! abort!’
Behind his desk, Jinyoung has a stack of papers in hand but at Jaebum’s question, they fall and he mutters a soft ‘fuck’ at the paper-cut he gets in his haste to organize them. He sucks the pad of his thumb in his mouth to lessen the immediate pain but removes it when he catches Jaebum’s gaze. Sitting down in his desk chair, his shoulders begin to relax. The smile on his face isn’t forced neither is it entirely genuine. “Mark is doing well, really well actually. We’re…” he pauses to gesture that Jaebum should also take a seat, “we’re really happy.”
“That’s-” He’s not sure what he would have said… good? great to hear? (even if his heart vehemently disagrees) because Jinyoung interrupts him before he can finish his sentence.
“That being said, Jae-JB is it?” At Jaebum’s nod, he continues, “JB, we’re not friends.”
It’s frightening how he had believed he couldn’t bleed anymore, how he had foolishly (so fucking foolishly) believed that his heart couldn’t possibly be broken or damaged more than it already had been. It’s scary and funny and so fucking stupid because it’s not true at all. At Jinyoung’s words, at the fucking way Jinyoung is looking at him - like he means nothing to him and never did - he wants to be a coward and run away and hide and never never never look back because this right here is going to kill him. This feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest and gleefully torn into a million tiny microscopic pieces over and over and over again. God what an idiot he had been to return to New York City.
He had lied to himself, he had pretended and had told himself repeatedly that he came back for the golden job opportunity, for his parents, for a hundred different reasons that did not include Jinyoung and this is exactly what lying to yourself gets you. Misery and pain. And the really shitty thing is that he knows he deserves every single word Jinyoung says or throws at him.
He had fucked up. And for him to think for one fucking moment that anything could be different, that there was any possible way that this reunion wouldn’t go down exactly like it is… what a fucking fool he had been.
And what a fucking fool he is because even as the pain in his heart is so great, so massive that he thinks that death really might be a welcome answer, he still can’t help but be in love with Jinyoung. He can’t help but be happy to see Jinyoung even if it’s clear that Jinyoung doesn’t share the same sentiment.
“I know,” he finally quietly says, not wanting to admit the truth but when the truth is staring you straight in the face it’s impossible to deny.
“I’ve talked it over with Mr. Baldwin,” Jinyoung says next, not bothering to acknowledge Jaebum’s answer. “For the time being it seems like we’re going to be working together.”
“I didn’t know you worked here.” As much as seeing Jinyoung again is both painful and comforting, Jaebum doesn’t want to make things harder for him. He figures it’s only right to take himself out of the equation once more. “I can find another place-”
“It’s fine.” At Jaebum’s look of surprise, Jinyoung reiterates, “It’s fine. As long as we’re on the same page about… things, I’m perfectly okay working together with you. We’re both adults. The past is the past. Let’s focus on the here and now. Do you agree?”
Jinyoung’s almost too calm and clinical and Jaebum wants to shake him and make him go back to the Jinyoung he use to know. Or maybe he just wants to shake himself out of this waking nightmare he’s currently in.
“Yes,” he replies, because what else can he say? Jinyoung is right after all, the past should stay firmly where it belongs. If Jinyoung can act like seeing him doesn’t bother him one tiny bit, he can do the same even if it kills him in the end.
Jinyoung smiles, again it’s a little too bright and fake and Jaebum absolutely loathes it with a passion of a thousand burning suns. When he was a child he was deathly afraid of clowns - the overdrawn garishly bright red lips, the white makeup that stood out in stark contrast, the exaggerated laughter that screamed insincerity - now he thinks the way Jinyoung is smiling at him is more terrifying than a roomful of costumed clowns.
“All right, good… we’ve got that cleared up.” Jinyoung says it with such nonchalance like he had just finished asking Jaebum what he wanted for lunch, and not that he had told him he rather forget their entire history. “I’ve read over the documentary proposal you sent to the director. While I don’t see any immediate problems, I do hope you’re willing to adapt and take direction from me depending on the circumstances.”
And so it begins, the pretend they’re nothing more than two people who happen to be working together for a short period of time.
“That won’t be an issue, I’ve already signed papers stating the same. And with a film that focuses on people living with illnesses, I understand it requires a lot of sensitivity and I have no problem taking cues from you in what you feel is right.”
“You’re interested in filming therapy sessions with patients and interviewing the patient and their family as well, right?”
Jaebum nods. “It would be valuable to the documentary and without it, the film won’t feel complete. To be able to show exactly what music therapy is and how it is used to benefit a patient, that will be powerful. I have a consent form written up for the parties to sign, I can talk with potential interviewees myself, or with you…”
“While I agree that for a lot of people seeing what music therapy can do is better than just having a film talking about the field, I think it would be best if I took the responsibility of getting filming permission for you. At least to start with. If they’re hesitant but still interested and want to speak with you, then you can come in and introduce yourself and talk with them. For the patients and their families, I’m just going to let you know now… this isn’t just a job for me. I care about them and they trust me, and if they don’t want to be part of your film, I’m not going to force them or encourage them.”
“And I wouldn’t want you to.” Jaebum has to admit it soothes his heart a little to see how much Jinyoung obviously cares about the patients he treats. The protective mama-bear quality that Jinyoung used to have for him, at least it’s not completely gone. “I don’t intend to overstep any boundaries, and I assure you I’ll be respectful and mindful of everyone involved in the film and that includes anyone who does not want to participate.”
Jinyoung looks satisfied with his answer. “I assume you’ll want to interview me and that’s fine, but I expect you’ll be okay with working with my schedule and around my patients’ needs?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’m working on another film as well, but if you give me your schedule for the next few weeks and let me know the best time and dates for you then I can work around my other commitments.” He knows, God he knows, that he probably seems like a pathetic fool (in love) bending over backward for someone who clearly doesn’t care about him, but when it comes to Jinyoung, he doesn’t know how to do anything else. It’s in his blood.
“I can do that. If you give me your work email address I can look at my schedule later and send you a list of dates… for the other, I’ll need some time to work on that before I can compile a list of those willing to participate and allow you to film them.”
Jaebum stands, taking his wallet out and handing Jinyoung a business card. A card that has all his contact information on it, and the bitter irony isn’t lost on him. Before they had known everything - well, almost everything - about each other, and now… now they’re practically strangers.
-
That afternoon after leaving Parker Center he grabs a quick bite to eat, even though he’s not really hungry, before he heads to the gym.
He works out for hours, mindlessly jumping from one machine to the next, punishing his body to punish himself. Not caring that all the muscles in his body are screaming in protest, he jogs over to the indoor track next. He wonders if he runs long enough, fast enough, can he outrun the onslaught of memories that mercilessly keeps playing over and over in his mind?
To see Jinyoung again, it had been the sweetest and cruelest form of torture and he doesn’t know whether to thank Heaven or curse God that Jinyoung is back in his life.
At least, for the moment he is.
The documentary filming won’t last forever.
But then again, nothing does.
_____________
Oh, hello angst.
It was this or Jinyoung punching Jaebum in the face, making him bleed both figuratively and literally.
Comments/constructive criticism (I’m uncertain of my angst writing skills tbh)/feedback is always most welcome.
Chapter: 4 (of ?)
Pairing: Jinyoung/Jaebum, Jinyoung/Mark
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 2835
Summary: The third installment to the Bleeding Love Saga. It follows Bleeding Love: Stupid Questions and Bleeding Love: Stupid Cliches. It would be beneficial to read both of those first. AU.
[And unlike the movie title, hope doesn’t float; it drowns.]
I’m still using Jaebum and Jinyoung, except in cases for when someone is directly speaking to them and in that case, I’ll use JB and Junior respectively.
_____________
I’m in California dreaming about who we used to be
when we were younger and free.
I forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet.
There's such a difference between us and a million miles.
“Hello” by Adele
-
I tell my empty heart that it’s a fool
“Why can’t I cry even though I’m in pain?”
//
Everything underneath the sky and the moon sunk in.
Nothing seems to be the way it used to be
except me who lost you.
“Sleepless Night” by SHINee
_____________
The dictionary definition of breathing: the process of taking air into and expelling it from the lungs. As we breathe in our diaphragm contracts downward, creating a vacuum that causes a rush of fresh air into the lungs, while with exhalation, our diaphragm relaxes upwards, pushing air out of the lungs. It’s an act we take for granted, something we don’t think about ninety-nine percent of the time we are awake.
But the moment he spots Jinyoung walking down the hallway in his direction, it’s as if he forgets how to breathe. Everything comes to a standstill, his heart and lungs included, and oh, God he can feel the rise of panic starting to set in along with the very real and Darwinian survival instinct of fight-or-flight.
Through the muddled mess of his mind, he can hear Youngjae asking if he’s okay and he forces himself to take in a shaky breath one after another until he feels slightly steadier on his feet as his initial panic begins to ebb. Then Jinyoung is standing before him, and it’s weird. Really really fucking weird and surreal and almost alternate universe-like to see Jinyoung standing a few steps away - that if he wanted to, if he dared to, he could reach out and touch Jinyoung and it wouldn’t be some dream or made-up illusion that would shatter into nothingness like candy confetti falling from a beaten piñata.
It’s been seven years, and it shouldn’t be possible that Jinyoung looks almost exactly the same. It’s been seven years, and it shouldn’t be possible that his heart reacts the very same way that it always did whenever Jinyoung was near. It shouldn’t be possible, yet it is.
“You’re back?”
“You’re Junior?”
Two questions, stupid questions really, stating the obvious. Over the years, his mind would drift during the lonely hours of nightfall and he would lay in bed imagining meeting Jinyoung again; how it would go, what he would say, what Jinyoung would say. On the good nights he would fall asleep with a smile on his face, after thinking up scenarios that could easily rival any romantic drama and put it to shame in how very perfect and wonderful their first meeting would be and what it could lead to in the future. Most often though, his dreams turned into nightmares. Nightmares that left him curled up in bed with his eyes clenched tight to stem the tears that fell like rain, because he knew without a doubt the reunion scenes which led to heartbreak and were the complete opposite of everything bright and happy and good were the ones far more likely to happen.
And here he is now, feeling like he’s on the edge of a cliff, suspended in the air and floating between dream and nightmare. One word, one action and he’d slip and fall without any safety net to catch him.
“You two know each other?” Youngjae asks, reminding them of the fact they are not alone.
“Yes,” Jaebum replies just as Jinyoung answers, “No.”
And with that one-word answer, it’s all Jaebum needs to know about the direction this meeting will take. Not that he expected anything different, but hope is a funny funny thing. As much as he tried to kill, crush, light on fire and burn to the ground any remaining trace of hope he had in regards to Jinyoung, a tiny tiny spark stayed kindled deep in his heart. A tiny spark that just had a metaphorical ocean’s worth of water tossed over it to extinguish it once and for all. And unlike the movie title, hope doesn’t float; it drowns.
Sensing the confusion their conflicting answers brought Youngjae, Jinyoung concedes after a moment. “We did… but that was a long time ago.”
Uncertain and not wanting to create further tension, Youngjae’s more than grateful to remember the director’s earlier request. “Ah, I almost forgot… Mr. Baldwin wants to see you in his office, Junior.”
Jinyoung’s face displays his welcome relief to have an excuse to make a fast exit and he does so without another word or backward glance.
Silence descends upon them for the first time since meeting one another and Youngjae gives Jaebum a small smile of encouragement. “Should we continue-”
“Hey, sorry,” Jaebum interjects, cutting Youngjae off abruptly. “I uh- actually do you mind, I think I left my car unlocked so I should probably go and, yeah I should go and check it…”
“Oh.” Recognizing Jaebum may want a few moments to himself, Youngjae hurries to assure him it’s fine.
And then Jaebum is gone and Youngjae is left alone to wonder what just happened.
-
He barely manages to make it to the elevator and out the lobby and back into the much-too-bright sun-filled sky before his legs nearly give out on him. It takes a moment to steady himself and he walks toward his car, clicking the unlock button on his key remote before climbing inside. It’s hot and stuffy in the car but it barely registers in his mind.
His hand reaches up and rests over his heart, as if to soothe the ache that never fully went away or stopped.
All the lies, all the fucking lies he told himself, come back in full force like hurling insults - laughing manically to taunt him at what a complete and utter fool he had been to even pretend to believe them. The lies he told himself over and over again - that he was over Jinyoung, that he had moved on, that he was perfectly okay, that he wasn’t broken and beyond repair - all things he knew to not be self-evident truths. Instead, he repeatedly chose to ignore the reality that for him Jinyoung would always be his favorite drug, his favorite mistake, his favorite everything.
-
It’s almost an hour later, after meeting up with Youngjae and apologizing to him for suddenly disappearing and brushing off the incident as not a big deal, that he finds himself in a room alone with Jinyoung for the first time in years. They’re in Jinyoung’s office and Jaebum takes a quick look around the room. Framed and hung on the wall are Jinyoung’s music therapy license and his NYU diploma. The bookcase in the corner is overflowing with books and trade journals, while his desk is relatively clean and uncluttered. There’s a lone plant close to the window - he’s not sure what kind, he’d never been good at differentiating between plant species - but even with that, the room still feels lifeless. There is no artwork and no personal mementos anywhere that he can see.
Jinyoung had closed the door after they both entered, and although there are two chairs on the other side of Jinyoung’s desk, Jaebum decides to remain standing until he’s offered a seat. The air surrounding them is suffocating with a mix of uneasiness (how do you start a conversation when you don’t know where to start?) and awareness (it’s been over seven years but the past, in all its fucked-up glory, still hangs heavily between them).
“How’s Mark?” is what comes out of his mouth before his brain can scream, ‘abort! abort!’
Behind his desk, Jinyoung has a stack of papers in hand but at Jaebum’s question, they fall and he mutters a soft ‘fuck’ at the paper-cut he gets in his haste to organize them. He sucks the pad of his thumb in his mouth to lessen the immediate pain but removes it when he catches Jaebum’s gaze. Sitting down in his desk chair, his shoulders begin to relax. The smile on his face isn’t forced neither is it entirely genuine. “Mark is doing well, really well actually. We’re…” he pauses to gesture that Jaebum should also take a seat, “we’re really happy.”
“That’s-” He’s not sure what he would have said… good? great to hear? (even if his heart vehemently disagrees) because Jinyoung interrupts him before he can finish his sentence.
“That being said, Jae-JB is it?” At Jaebum’s nod, he continues, “JB, we’re not friends.”
It’s frightening how he had believed he couldn’t bleed anymore, how he had foolishly (so fucking foolishly) believed that his heart couldn’t possibly be broken or damaged more than it already had been. It’s scary and funny and so fucking stupid because it’s not true at all. At Jinyoung’s words, at the fucking way Jinyoung is looking at him - like he means nothing to him and never did - he wants to be a coward and run away and hide and never never never look back because this right here is going to kill him. This feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest and gleefully torn into a million tiny microscopic pieces over and over and over again. God what an idiot he had been to return to New York City.
He had lied to himself, he had pretended and had told himself repeatedly that he came back for the golden job opportunity, for his parents, for a hundred different reasons that did not include Jinyoung and this is exactly what lying to yourself gets you. Misery and pain. And the really shitty thing is that he knows he deserves every single word Jinyoung says or throws at him.
He had fucked up. And for him to think for one fucking moment that anything could be different, that there was any possible way that this reunion wouldn’t go down exactly like it is… what a fucking fool he had been.
And what a fucking fool he is because even as the pain in his heart is so great, so massive that he thinks that death really might be a welcome answer, he still can’t help but be in love with Jinyoung. He can’t help but be happy to see Jinyoung even if it’s clear that Jinyoung doesn’t share the same sentiment.
“I know,” he finally quietly says, not wanting to admit the truth but when the truth is staring you straight in the face it’s impossible to deny.
“I’ve talked it over with Mr. Baldwin,” Jinyoung says next, not bothering to acknowledge Jaebum’s answer. “For the time being it seems like we’re going to be working together.”
“I didn’t know you worked here.” As much as seeing Jinyoung again is both painful and comforting, Jaebum doesn’t want to make things harder for him. He figures it’s only right to take himself out of the equation once more. “I can find another place-”
“It’s fine.” At Jaebum’s look of surprise, Jinyoung reiterates, “It’s fine. As long as we’re on the same page about… things, I’m perfectly okay working together with you. We’re both adults. The past is the past. Let’s focus on the here and now. Do you agree?”
Jinyoung’s almost too calm and clinical and Jaebum wants to shake him and make him go back to the Jinyoung he use to know. Or maybe he just wants to shake himself out of this waking nightmare he’s currently in.
“Yes,” he replies, because what else can he say? Jinyoung is right after all, the past should stay firmly where it belongs. If Jinyoung can act like seeing him doesn’t bother him one tiny bit, he can do the same even if it kills him in the end.
Jinyoung smiles, again it’s a little too bright and fake and Jaebum absolutely loathes it with a passion of a thousand burning suns. When he was a child he was deathly afraid of clowns - the overdrawn garishly bright red lips, the white makeup that stood out in stark contrast, the exaggerated laughter that screamed insincerity - now he thinks the way Jinyoung is smiling at him is more terrifying than a roomful of costumed clowns.
“All right, good… we’ve got that cleared up.” Jinyoung says it with such nonchalance like he had just finished asking Jaebum what he wanted for lunch, and not that he had told him he rather forget their entire history. “I’ve read over the documentary proposal you sent to the director. While I don’t see any immediate problems, I do hope you’re willing to adapt and take direction from me depending on the circumstances.”
And so it begins, the pretend they’re nothing more than two people who happen to be working together for a short period of time.
“That won’t be an issue, I’ve already signed papers stating the same. And with a film that focuses on people living with illnesses, I understand it requires a lot of sensitivity and I have no problem taking cues from you in what you feel is right.”
“You’re interested in filming therapy sessions with patients and interviewing the patient and their family as well, right?”
Jaebum nods. “It would be valuable to the documentary and without it, the film won’t feel complete. To be able to show exactly what music therapy is and how it is used to benefit a patient, that will be powerful. I have a consent form written up for the parties to sign, I can talk with potential interviewees myself, or with you…”
“While I agree that for a lot of people seeing what music therapy can do is better than just having a film talking about the field, I think it would be best if I took the responsibility of getting filming permission for you. At least to start with. If they’re hesitant but still interested and want to speak with you, then you can come in and introduce yourself and talk with them. For the patients and their families, I’m just going to let you know now… this isn’t just a job for me. I care about them and they trust me, and if they don’t want to be part of your film, I’m not going to force them or encourage them.”
“And I wouldn’t want you to.” Jaebum has to admit it soothes his heart a little to see how much Jinyoung obviously cares about the patients he treats. The protective mama-bear quality that Jinyoung used to have for him, at least it’s not completely gone. “I don’t intend to overstep any boundaries, and I assure you I’ll be respectful and mindful of everyone involved in the film and that includes anyone who does not want to participate.”
Jinyoung looks satisfied with his answer. “I assume you’ll want to interview me and that’s fine, but I expect you’ll be okay with working with my schedule and around my patients’ needs?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’m working on another film as well, but if you give me your schedule for the next few weeks and let me know the best time and dates for you then I can work around my other commitments.” He knows, God he knows, that he probably seems like a pathetic fool (in love) bending over backward for someone who clearly doesn’t care about him, but when it comes to Jinyoung, he doesn’t know how to do anything else. It’s in his blood.
“I can do that. If you give me your work email address I can look at my schedule later and send you a list of dates… for the other, I’ll need some time to work on that before I can compile a list of those willing to participate and allow you to film them.”
Jaebum stands, taking his wallet out and handing Jinyoung a business card. A card that has all his contact information on it, and the bitter irony isn’t lost on him. Before they had known everything - well, almost everything - about each other, and now… now they’re practically strangers.
-
That afternoon after leaving Parker Center he grabs a quick bite to eat, even though he’s not really hungry, before he heads to the gym.
He works out for hours, mindlessly jumping from one machine to the next, punishing his body to punish himself. Not caring that all the muscles in his body are screaming in protest, he jogs over to the indoor track next. He wonders if he runs long enough, fast enough, can he outrun the onslaught of memories that mercilessly keeps playing over and over in his mind?
To see Jinyoung again, it had been the sweetest and cruelest form of torture and he doesn’t know whether to thank Heaven or curse God that Jinyoung is back in his life.
At least, for the moment he is.
The documentary filming won’t last forever.
But then again, nothing does.
_____________
Oh, hello angst.
It was this or Jinyoung punching Jaebum in the face, making him bleed both figuratively and literally.
Comments/constructive criticism (I’m uncertain of my angst writing skills tbh)/feedback is always most welcome.