(no subject)
Title: Of Glances and Smiles
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama (?)
Warnings: Character Death
Disclaimer: The poem isn't mine, copyrights to the rightful owner. But I did change a line.
A/N: It's not really my first time posting but I guess nobody knows me! ILY i you know where the poem is rom and what's different. :D
A/N2: The story focuses on Yunho's POV.
Summary: Jung Yunho's life is simple, consisted of bright mornings, tiring days at work, and after each, a good night's rest. But the only thing that really drives him to look forward to his monotonous everydays is the beautiful man at the health care instituition he always stares at on his way to work.
-Of Glances and Smiles-
The rays seep through the small cracks between the binds and make their way to the figure lying on the
soft bed. A yawn escapes his lips as he stretches his limbs, preparing for another day of work. He takes a
while on his bed and breathes in deeply, along with the air comes the positivity of the day ahead, with all
the excitement of what's to come and the happiness of enjoying a job well done. He releases the breath he
holds and out come the regrets of yesterday's failures hand in hand with all of the bad things that ever
happened on the previous day. He smiles brightly as he moves to the edge of the bed, anticipating what
destiny's got in store for him.
He starts his day off by a trip to the bathroom. He let's the tub fill up with water because he deserves a
good bath once in a while. The tub itself might feel that he's neglecting it after who-knows-how-long of
forgetting it is even there in the first place. While waiting, he gets a cup of hot coffeee and almost curses
himself when it's too hot on his tongue. Almost because he doesn't cuss, and even if there's no one there to
hear him and reprimand him, Mother Nature may be miles away because he's in the city, but she hears
everything, so he saves it. To complement his coffee, and to cool it off a bit, he prepares a toast. He opens
the small kitchen cabinets to look for his jar of peanut butter. After all the fuss, he frowns when he
realizes he's out of that. Maybe butter would do, but he frowns again when he comes to know that he's
finished that up, too. He wonders if he goes through the same routine over and over again and thinks that
some time he should spare a stop at the grocery store. He gets scared when he thinks of how many
supplies he is missing.
After eating up the meal he calls a decent breakfast which is enough to make him work all day, he
proceeds to the bathroom and catches himself on time from shrieking when he sees the water running
and pouring out of the overly-filled tub. He scrambles to turn it off, ignoring the fact that the ends of his
pyjamas are getting wet. He lets out a sigh of relief and leans on the wall, only to find himself falling on
the tub, fully-clothed because he is stupid enough to lean on air. He stands up and takes off his awfully
clingy pyjamas and relaxes on the tub. His muscles soften and a satisfied smile breaks on his face. Just
the thing to calm his nerves when everything seems to be getting wrong. But he's used to it because this is
what happens everyday.
After taking a nice bath and having a good scrub, which he finds real helpful, he dries himself up. He is
delighted because there is a towel hanging inside the bathroom. He may be living alone, but he doesn't
want to wet the floor by walking around naked because being alone means having to deal with everything
by yourself. He can proudly call himself household chores-lazy because he is, in fact, household choreslazy,
and there's no point denying it.
He clothes himself and combs his hair properly after it is dried. He looks at the mirror to check himself
and grins from ear to ear. He's pretty good-looking, no, he actually is. But that isn't really the right time to
be narcisstic, so he fixes himself one last time before getting his things and his coat. It's cold outside. He
doesn't want to fall sick. What's lonelier than having to take care of yourself when you're ill?
He proceeds outside and greets his neighbors a good morning, even his landlady who is happily watering
her garden plants. They all smile back at him and greet him a good morning, too. He walks off to the bus
stop and stands there despite the fact that there is an unoccupied space on the bench. Others may need it,
so he doesn't take it, not even for a while of rest. Sometimes he catches people looking at him. Maybe he
looks rich. He doesn't care. Buying a car means adding to the pollution. Others may say, “The world's
already crumbling, anyway, so why hold back?”, but no, not him, because Mother Nature wouldn't be very
pleased if he joined in on the so-called 'fun'.
The bus is finally there and he gets on, scans his card on the reader, and chooses an empty seat at the
back. He doesn't like having people sit beside him so he chooses someplace far, far enough for people to
refuse sitting on because it's a hassle and every seat is in the same bus, anyway. He sits beside the window
and puts his bag on the seat beside him, but holding it anyways. Even if he likes thinking positive, there
are people who lack goodness in themselves, and he should know that.
He gets off at the stop preceding his actual one. He's a few minutes away, but he walks it. There's a smile on
his face as he makes a turn on the corner, taking a longer cut. 5, maybe 10 minutes being late wouldn't
hurt anyway. His boss is a good man, so he'll let it slide off easily.
He passes by a health care instituition for people who are badly sick with no families to take care of them.
It's a beautiful white architecture, a true peace of art. It always gives him a feeling of peace when he looks
at the patients smiling contentedly to themselves. They look satisfied and more than grateful to the nurses
and doctors who take care of them, a place in their heart where their families should be. But he doesn't
feel sorry for them, not a bit, because they may be better off where they are now than be thrown away
like rag dolls and be forced to come back because of having no other place to call 'home'.
But the one he really wants to look at is the one in wheels, always on the balcony, folding what he makes out as paper cranes. There aren't any nurses with him, but he smiles happily anyway as his hands
fold the multi colored papers neatly.
“Jung-ssi, nice to see you here again.” A nurse greets him when she sees him standing there, almost gaping.
“How many times must I tell you to simply call me Yunho?” He says with a smile.
“Probably once more each time.” She answers back. He just shakes his head at the response.
“Oh, could you give these to him?”
He hands her 10 pieces of colored paper, already fixed in size, and with short greetings and letters
scribbled on it.
“Of course, Jung-ssi. It is a pleasure to help.”
“I'll stop by tomorrow, again.”
“You always do. Maybe three more trips and I ought to call you by your first name, Jung-ssi.”
He laughs and waves her off.
He looks up once again at the beautiful man. His skin is pale and looks soft, even from afar. And he
wonders what exactly it would feel like to hold those hands.
I never held you,
He looks at his hand and closes his eyes. Maybe, it is cold but has a tinge of warmth. The man's hands
against his must feel soft and comfortable. And he may be the happiest man alive when he intertwines his
fingers with the said man's.
But I feel you.
He opens his eyes and looks at the beautiful man on the balcony once again. The nurse is there and gives
him the pieces of paper. He can see him look surprise and smile at the sheets when he reads what is
written on every piece. He mouths something to the nurse and she leaves. He looks back at the pieces of
paper and looks down at the people below, as if searching for someone. He says something to himself and
continues making paper cranes, putting one inside a jar after finishing.
I never spoke to you,
And he smiles from below.
Because he understands every word said. And he can imagine how soft his voice must be. How loving he
would sound, and how beautiful and eternally mesmerizing he'd be when he sings.
But I hear you.
He looks at his watch and speeds away. He'd been too induldged that he forgot time is ticking.
Work is the same. Tiring, but enjoyable. He likes what he does, simple and easy-to-learn, although
monotonous albeit boring for others.
Dark quickly comes. He proceeds home and traces back the same route he uses to go to work. He spares a
glance at the balcony and sees him there looking very sleepy, until a nurse pulls his wheelchair and
guides him away. He smiles to himself and walks away.
He reaches his home and drops himself on the bed. He takes a shower and changes
to his pyjamas, sleep engulfing him as he closes his eyes when he plops himself on the soft mattress. He remembers the man he always looks at and his heart skips a beat. He's sure he'll
have good dreams, just like every night.
Morning comes and he thinks he'll go through the same routine, but he won't. Because it isn't his alarm
clock that wakes him up, but the sound of his telephone ringing.
“Jung-ssi. This is me. Please come quickly.”
He pretends it's a good surprise. Pretends because he hears the sorrow laced in her words.
He doesn't take more than thirty minutes for preparation. His neighbors sense something wrong with him
as he runs away, forgetting the greetings, the smiles, the norm. But nobody stops him from running,
because it seems like he's running for his life.
He gets there, and everyone, even the patients, is holding flowers and looking tear-stricken. He pants,
tired, and he wonders what's wrong. He is led to a hospital bed and sees a face he thought for sure he'll
never see up close.
“I'm sorry, Yunho.”
And it might be a very important occasion that the nurse calls him by his first name. He understands
what those words mean because he's not stupid and dumb. He likes taking things as they are, but this one
seems rather hard to accept. He does, anyway.
“He'd have wanted you to have these.”
She hands him a jar of paper cranes.
“There are more, but they're many, so we'll offer to drive you home.”
He nods his head absent-mindedly.
The only thing he focuses on is the man on the bed, pale and not breathing. He touches the man's face,
almost scared at the coldness he'll feel. But he doesn't wince away. Instead he caresses the soft skin and
fixes the strands of black hair.
“He's beautiful.” He says. Everyone stays silent.
I never knew you,
He is driven home with jars of paper cranes. Moments later, he is home again, emptying a shelf and
setting the jars on it. He smiles, almost sadly as he looks at them. There is a note on one, written is “I want
to meet you.” in a beautiful script. He is on the verge of crying when the man who drove him home pats
him on the back and murmurs a small “Bye.” before excusing himself.
He falls back on his bed, tears streaming freely on his face. He closes his eyes and imagines how
wonderful it could've been if they were fated for each other.
But I love you.
-The End-
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama (?)
Warnings: Character Death
Disclaimer: The poem isn't mine, copyrights to the rightful owner. But I did change a line.
A/N: It's not really my first time posting but I guess nobody knows me! ILY i you know where the poem is rom and what's different. :D
A/N2: The story focuses on Yunho's POV.
Summary: Jung Yunho's life is simple, consisted of bright mornings, tiring days at work, and after each, a good night's rest. But the only thing that really drives him to look forward to his monotonous everydays is the beautiful man at the health care instituition he always stares at on his way to work.
-Of Glances and Smiles-
The rays seep through the small cracks between the binds and make their way to the figure lying on the
soft bed. A yawn escapes his lips as he stretches his limbs, preparing for another day of work. He takes a
while on his bed and breathes in deeply, along with the air comes the positivity of the day ahead, with all
the excitement of what's to come and the happiness of enjoying a job well done. He releases the breath he
holds and out come the regrets of yesterday's failures hand in hand with all of the bad things that ever
happened on the previous day. He smiles brightly as he moves to the edge of the bed, anticipating what
destiny's got in store for him.
He starts his day off by a trip to the bathroom. He let's the tub fill up with water because he deserves a
good bath once in a while. The tub itself might feel that he's neglecting it after who-knows-how-long of
forgetting it is even there in the first place. While waiting, he gets a cup of hot coffeee and almost curses
himself when it's too hot on his tongue. Almost because he doesn't cuss, and even if there's no one there to
hear him and reprimand him, Mother Nature may be miles away because he's in the city, but she hears
everything, so he saves it. To complement his coffee, and to cool it off a bit, he prepares a toast. He opens
the small kitchen cabinets to look for his jar of peanut butter. After all the fuss, he frowns when he
realizes he's out of that. Maybe butter would do, but he frowns again when he comes to know that he's
finished that up, too. He wonders if he goes through the same routine over and over again and thinks that
some time he should spare a stop at the grocery store. He gets scared when he thinks of how many
supplies he is missing.
After eating up the meal he calls a decent breakfast which is enough to make him work all day, he
proceeds to the bathroom and catches himself on time from shrieking when he sees the water running
and pouring out of the overly-filled tub. He scrambles to turn it off, ignoring the fact that the ends of his
pyjamas are getting wet. He lets out a sigh of relief and leans on the wall, only to find himself falling on
the tub, fully-clothed because he is stupid enough to lean on air. He stands up and takes off his awfully
clingy pyjamas and relaxes on the tub. His muscles soften and a satisfied smile breaks on his face. Just
the thing to calm his nerves when everything seems to be getting wrong. But he's used to it because this is
what happens everyday.
After taking a nice bath and having a good scrub, which he finds real helpful, he dries himself up. He is
delighted because there is a towel hanging inside the bathroom. He may be living alone, but he doesn't
want to wet the floor by walking around naked because being alone means having to deal with everything
by yourself. He can proudly call himself household chores-lazy because he is, in fact, household choreslazy,
and there's no point denying it.
He clothes himself and combs his hair properly after it is dried. He looks at the mirror to check himself
and grins from ear to ear. He's pretty good-looking, no, he actually is. But that isn't really the right time to
be narcisstic, so he fixes himself one last time before getting his things and his coat. It's cold outside. He
doesn't want to fall sick. What's lonelier than having to take care of yourself when you're ill?
He proceeds outside and greets his neighbors a good morning, even his landlady who is happily watering
her garden plants. They all smile back at him and greet him a good morning, too. He walks off to the bus
stop and stands there despite the fact that there is an unoccupied space on the bench. Others may need it,
so he doesn't take it, not even for a while of rest. Sometimes he catches people looking at him. Maybe he
looks rich. He doesn't care. Buying a car means adding to the pollution. Others may say, “The world's
already crumbling, anyway, so why hold back?”, but no, not him, because Mother Nature wouldn't be very
pleased if he joined in on the so-called 'fun'.
The bus is finally there and he gets on, scans his card on the reader, and chooses an empty seat at the
back. He doesn't like having people sit beside him so he chooses someplace far, far enough for people to
refuse sitting on because it's a hassle and every seat is in the same bus, anyway. He sits beside the window
and puts his bag on the seat beside him, but holding it anyways. Even if he likes thinking positive, there
are people who lack goodness in themselves, and he should know that.
He gets off at the stop preceding his actual one. He's a few minutes away, but he walks it. There's a smile on
his face as he makes a turn on the corner, taking a longer cut. 5, maybe 10 minutes being late wouldn't
hurt anyway. His boss is a good man, so he'll let it slide off easily.
He passes by a health care instituition for people who are badly sick with no families to take care of them.
It's a beautiful white architecture, a true peace of art. It always gives him a feeling of peace when he looks
at the patients smiling contentedly to themselves. They look satisfied and more than grateful to the nurses
and doctors who take care of them, a place in their heart where their families should be. But he doesn't
feel sorry for them, not a bit, because they may be better off where they are now than be thrown away
like rag dolls and be forced to come back because of having no other place to call 'home'.
But the one he really wants to look at is the one in wheels, always on the balcony, folding what he makes out as paper cranes. There aren't any nurses with him, but he smiles happily anyway as his hands
fold the multi colored papers neatly.
“Jung-ssi, nice to see you here again.” A nurse greets him when she sees him standing there, almost gaping.
“How many times must I tell you to simply call me Yunho?” He says with a smile.
“Probably once more each time.” She answers back. He just shakes his head at the response.
“Oh, could you give these to him?”
He hands her 10 pieces of colored paper, already fixed in size, and with short greetings and letters
scribbled on it.
“Of course, Jung-ssi. It is a pleasure to help.”
“I'll stop by tomorrow, again.”
“You always do. Maybe three more trips and I ought to call you by your first name, Jung-ssi.”
He laughs and waves her off.
He looks up once again at the beautiful man. His skin is pale and looks soft, even from afar. And he
wonders what exactly it would feel like to hold those hands.
I never held you,
He looks at his hand and closes his eyes. Maybe, it is cold but has a tinge of warmth. The man's hands
against his must feel soft and comfortable. And he may be the happiest man alive when he intertwines his
fingers with the said man's.
But I feel you.
He opens his eyes and looks at the beautiful man on the balcony once again. The nurse is there and gives
him the pieces of paper. He can see him look surprise and smile at the sheets when he reads what is
written on every piece. He mouths something to the nurse and she leaves. He looks back at the pieces of
paper and looks down at the people below, as if searching for someone. He says something to himself and
continues making paper cranes, putting one inside a jar after finishing.
I never spoke to you,
And he smiles from below.
Because he understands every word said. And he can imagine how soft his voice must be. How loving he
would sound, and how beautiful and eternally mesmerizing he'd be when he sings.
But I hear you.
He looks at his watch and speeds away. He'd been too induldged that he forgot time is ticking.
Work is the same. Tiring, but enjoyable. He likes what he does, simple and easy-to-learn, although
monotonous albeit boring for others.
Dark quickly comes. He proceeds home and traces back the same route he uses to go to work. He spares a
glance at the balcony and sees him there looking very sleepy, until a nurse pulls his wheelchair and
guides him away. He smiles to himself and walks away.
He reaches his home and drops himself on the bed. He takes a shower and changes
to his pyjamas, sleep engulfing him as he closes his eyes when he plops himself on the soft mattress. He remembers the man he always looks at and his heart skips a beat. He's sure he'll
have good dreams, just like every night.
Morning comes and he thinks he'll go through the same routine, but he won't. Because it isn't his alarm
clock that wakes him up, but the sound of his telephone ringing.
“Jung-ssi. This is me. Please come quickly.”
He pretends it's a good surprise. Pretends because he hears the sorrow laced in her words.
He doesn't take more than thirty minutes for preparation. His neighbors sense something wrong with him
as he runs away, forgetting the greetings, the smiles, the norm. But nobody stops him from running,
because it seems like he's running for his life.
He gets there, and everyone, even the patients, is holding flowers and looking tear-stricken. He pants,
tired, and he wonders what's wrong. He is led to a hospital bed and sees a face he thought for sure he'll
never see up close.
“I'm sorry, Yunho.”
And it might be a very important occasion that the nurse calls him by his first name. He understands
what those words mean because he's not stupid and dumb. He likes taking things as they are, but this one
seems rather hard to accept. He does, anyway.
“He'd have wanted you to have these.”
She hands him a jar of paper cranes.
“There are more, but they're many, so we'll offer to drive you home.”
He nods his head absent-mindedly.
The only thing he focuses on is the man on the bed, pale and not breathing. He touches the man's face,
almost scared at the coldness he'll feel. But he doesn't wince away. Instead he caresses the soft skin and
fixes the strands of black hair.
“He's beautiful.” He says. Everyone stays silent.
I never knew you,
He is driven home with jars of paper cranes. Moments later, he is home again, emptying a shelf and
setting the jars on it. He smiles, almost sadly as he looks at them. There is a note on one, written is “I want
to meet you.” in a beautiful script. He is on the verge of crying when the man who drove him home pats
him on the back and murmurs a small “Bye.” before excusing himself.
He falls back on his bed, tears streaming freely on his face. He closes his eyes and imagines how
wonderful it could've been if they were fated for each other.
But I love you.
-The End-