mirotic fic again, finally?

Sep 29, 2008 20:13

Xiah Junsu is a nice boy. Always has been, really. Always willing to help. Nice. Caring, with a smile that never fades. He’s always been good at taking care of things, protecting them. Cherishing them forever until it doesn’t matter anymore and it still goes on.

He loves Yoochun. Loves him so much that it’s grown inside of him, twisting into a burning ache that never goes away.

He’s always been good at protecting things, and Junsu’s hands tremble as he closes the door to the glass box. There’s panic in Yoochun’s eyes. Panic and confusion as his fingers slide against the surface. Scratching. Slipping.

“You have to go in,” Junsu’s saying, and it’s muffled just barely by the four walls closing in on him.

“I’m sorry, Yoochunah, but you have to go in.”

Yoochun’s throat is tightening and burning all at once. He wants to scream. He does. The sound builds and rolls back over him, filling the box but it doesn’t stop him from doing it again.

“You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to. Please, don’t do this.”

Junsu presses his hands against the surface.

“Don’t worry, Yoochunah.” His voice is comforting, and he smiles.

“I love you. They can’t touch you. Nobody can. They can’t make you bad.”

Yoochun feels his heart starting to break. “I love you, too,” he whispers. “Isn’t that enough?”

Junsu shakes his head, fingers curling against the glass.

“You have to stay.”

Yoochun screams. He throws himself against the glass door, hitting it over and over again. “Don’t say that.” Junsu stares calmly back at him. “Don’t fucking say that!”

Nothing. No matter how many times he hits the glass, it doesn’t give. Doesn’t shatter.

Time passes. He gives up, slumping against the far right corner. Away from the door. Away from Junsu, because he knows that if he looks at him, he won’t be able to pull away.

Suddenly, Junsu starts to fall apart.

He sinks to the ground, fingers pressing hard against the glass and he wants Yoochun to come back. Come closer. Needs him closer, needs him to understand.

Yoochun is beautiful. So beautiful. The world will make him bad. Junsu loves him. Has to protect him, and a sob breaks through him, fingers scraping against the glass.

“Yoochunah,” he chokes, body shaking and Yoochun still won’t look at him.

“Love you. Please.”

Yoochun feels the ache in his heart.

“Love me. Please.”

He tries to look away but he can’t, crawling closer, and his fingers reach out to hold him. Cold glass. His chest burns, and he whispers through the barrier. Forgets his anger.

His heart breaks. It’s love.

//

Time is nonexistent in the box.

Yoochun never knows what time it is. He never knows if it’s day or night or anything in between because there’s no light.

His only indication is the meals that Junsu brings for him. Always the same, always his favorite things three times a day. More if he asks, and even that is unsteady. Like now.

Lonely whenever Junsu leaves him. Nothing to do but stare into the darkness, wait for him to come back.

Yoochun sighs. A steady breath until there’s a light frosting over the glass. He traces a heart into the canvas. A small heart. Fragile, with a J in the center.

“Pretty,” he whispers, and it fades.

//

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

The question is soft, whispered through the glass and Junsu thinks. He thinks and tries and doesn’t remember. Fingers curl against the glass.

“Remind me.”

Yoochun’s gaze shifts from Junsu to the area over Junsu’s right shoulder. The glass changes. “It was raining. You were late for the bus and I made them stop to let you on.”

The box is the window of that bus so long ago. He can see Junsu standing there. Small. Shaking. Waving his arms and the bus driver doesn’t care.

“I remember.”

Yoochun smiles. Barely. “Yeah?”

“You talked to me,” Junsu whispers, fingers stroking Yoochun’s softly. Cold. Glass. “You asked me my name, didn’t you, Yoochunah? You smile at me and I forgot I was cold.”

Yoochun gazes at him fondly. Lovingly.

“You were shaking so badly. But every time I offered you my coat, you said the same thing. It’s not that bad.” Junsu smiles. Yoochun looks down. “I smile because of you, you know.”

Junsu trails his fingertips down Yoochun’s cheek.

“I smile because of you, too. You’re so beautiful, Yoochunah. I love you.”

Yoochun feels a tug in his heart. Fingers start to slip.

“I love you too, Junsuah.”

//

Junsu washes his hands twenty times a day.

It’s a tick he’s always had. Something he can’t seem to shake, and as much as he hates leaving Yoochun, he has to do it.

He’s halfway through the seventh time today when the phone rings. The phone never rings, and his voice is angry.

“Hello? Of course Yoochun is here. He’s fine. He doesn’t want to talk to you. Leave us alone.”

He slams the phone down. No one understands.

Junsu’s voice is harsh, and Yoochun presses closer to the glass as he comes back. Steps closer. Practically out of the shadows.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Who was on the phone, Junsu?”

“Nobody. Nothing. It’s not important.”

And Yoochun feels it starting to crack.

//

It takes months for everything to finally shatter.

Just another day. Just another plate full of something that’s completely unappetizing by now, and Yoochun’s back is pressed against the glass, teeth clenched and he can feel the way Junsu tries not to touch him. Succeeds.

And then something snaps.

Yoochun’s fingers close in roughly around Junsu’s shoulder. Pull him back until his back hits the glass, and he kisses him.

His heart is pounding wildly. Alive. So much more alive than he has been in longer than he can remember. Too long. And Junsu is struggling against him. He can feel it.

Every push forward complimented with a pull back. Every touch coupled with a need to pull away.

Yoochun’s fingers won’t stop stroking against his skin. Warm. Familiar. And he pulls back.

Junsu is shaking violently against him, and Yoochun holds on tighter.

“Say something.” Voice hoarse. Cracked. ”Say something, Junsuah.”

“Don’t.” Junsu stutters, chokes on tears that refuse to form. To fall. “Make you bad. Don’t wanna make you bad.”

Yoochun’s heart is breaking. Close. So close, and he keeps on holding him there. “You won’t,” he whispers. “The only thing you’ve ever made me is happy.” He’s starting to choke on his own tears.

“This makes me happy.”

And Junsu breaks.

He shatters at the same time Yoochun’s back hits the glass, stumbles backwards and slams the door. Footsteps shout along with walls, and they freeze.

“Yoochun.”

Changmin. It’s Changmin. The same Changmin that tried calling all those weeks ago, and Junsu can do nothing but stare at him with wide eyes. Afraid. Terrified. Always terrified if it isn’t Yoochun.

“What the hell?”

Changmin goes from confused to enraged in less than three seconds. He steps forwards, fingers closing roughly around Junsu’s shirt, slamming him hard into the glass.

“A box?” he practically screams. “We thought Yoochun was dead, and you’ve been keeping him in a fucking box?”

“Didn’t want to make him bad,” Junsu stammers. “We wanted to be together.”

“Together?” Changmin’s head is pounding. Too full of too many sleepless nights. Too many months of phone calls and the police knew nothing. Nobody knew. “You think that’s how you stay together with someone? You think that’s how to make someone love you? You’re fucking insane. You-“

“Let go, Changmin.”

He does. Changmin has no fucking idea why, but he does, and Junsu’s broken and the pieces scatter. Too small to put back together. Too small to matter. But Yoochun wants to pick up every last one.

Junsu sinks to the floor. Curls into himself, shaking, and sobs. He’s bad. Bad. So bad. Yoochun is going away. They’re going to take Yoochun away. He’s insane. Fucking insane. And he’s nothing without Yoochun.

He loves him. Loves him so much. Yoochun tries to comfort, whisper through the glass. Changmin stares in horror. Swallows hard and looks away.

“I’m going to get the others so we can get you out.”

Footsteps grow softer and eventually fade to nothing. Time passes, and eventually Junsu pulls himself to his feet, fingers slipping against the glass. Still sobbing, practically choking as he fumbles with the look before pulling the door open.

Bad. So bad. And if they’re taking Yoochun away anyway, it’s okay to be bad.

Yoochun can’t get up fast enough, scrambling to his feet and Junsu comes to him easily. Holds onto him so tightly that it hurts. Fingers stroke his hair softly.

“Don’t leave me,” Junsu chokes. “Please. Please. Need you, Yoochunah. Love you. Please.”

Yoochun holds him tighter. He can feel himself shaking now, but he can’t let this go. “Junsuah.” He starts off slow. Easy. But it doesn’t stop his voice from shaking, cracking anyway.

“I’ll never leave you, Junsuah. I’m yours. I love you. That isn’t changing. But … I have to go home. I have to come out of here. Don’t you understand that?”

“No.” Junsu’s voice is strong even though it’s barely audible over the way that he’s gasping for breath, clutching onto Yoochun ever harder. “Need you. Yoochunah, need you, love you, please.”

“I love you too.” And Yoochun’s voice is breaking. “That’s why I have to help you, Junsu. I have to.”

Junsu can’t breathe. Feeling like he’s suffocating. Like he’s dying. “Don’t need it. Don’t want help. Just you.”

Yoochun’s heart clenches. Junsu’s like a child. He doesn’t know any better. Doesn’t understand. And he continues stroking his hair. “Do you remember when we met on the bus?” he asks softly, voice wavering just barely. “That was five years ago. Do you remember?”

Junsu nods. He remembers. He remembers the bus and the rain and the way Yoochun smiled at him and he wasn’t cold.

“You smiled at me that day,” Yoochun whispers, impossible to stop his own tears from falling now. “You smiled at me and you never do that anymore. You don’t smile. Or laugh. I miss it. I miss you. I never left you, but you’ve been slowly leaving me. Don’t you see, Junsuah? I don’t want to leave you. I want you to come back. I miss you.”

“I … left you?” The smallest ray of hope in Yoochun’s heart at the voice, and Junsu hiccups loudly as another sob jerks through his body. “I don’t want to leave you. Need you. I’m bad. You’re good. So good, Yoochunah. So good.”

Yoochun has to understand. He was always the only one who could understand.

“I know,” he whispers, a soft murmur against Junsu’s hair. He can feel it, the broken apology in his words even though it isn’t spoken. He doesn’t want Junsu to hurt anymore. To feel sorry anymore.

“That’s why we have to get you help. We have to bring you back. I don’t want you to leave any more, Junsuah. You’re too good. Too good.”

Yoochun presses a soft kiss to his forehead. And then the sound of footsteps bounces towards them once more. More than one set this time, and Junsu’s clinging to him once again as Changmin reappears.

He gazes through the glass at so many faces. His mother, looking confused. Upset. His brother looking bewildered, friends looking horrified and angry. But he doesn’t feel it anymore. No more bitterness. No more longing.

Need. The need for Junsu to get better. The need to be good. Time to be good now, no more bad, and he knows it as soon as he locks eyes with Changmin.

Understand. Please, understand. Everyone. Understand.

“We need to give him help.”

//

Yoochunah,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

I don’t know exactly how many months. Maybe even years. It’s not really the kind of thing they want me to keep track of. They like it when I keep track of my progress instead. That way I don’t feel like I’m rushing myself or something. And I guess being allowed to finally write you a letter has to count as some sort of progress, right?

Anyway, it’s not so bad here. The people are nice and they like to talk to me and listen whenever I talk to them. I told them all about you and the bus and the rain and they said that it was a nice story. Then I told them more, like how we used to sit on the couch together and snuggle and watch movies and how you used to sing to me in the dark.

I miss you. I miss all of it, and it’s hard for me to think about sometimes. Yoochunah, I don’t know how to explain it to you. It doesn’t feel like it was me. Putting you into the glass box, keeping you there for so long. It makes me sick to my stomach when I think about it.

They showed me why it wasn’t okay. Why it still isn’t okay. It will never be okay, and then they told me that you keep calling to check on me and it made me so happy. So happy, so lucky that you still love me. You still love me even though I’m bad, right? Well, I was bad. I was really bad, but now I’m going to try to be good.

They told me that I smile a lot more, and I started laughing, too. The people here are nice. I like talking to them.

Anyway, they gave me my picture back. The one of us a while ago, that we took in your apartment. My favorite one. They gave it back to me and they told me I’m getting better.

I’m getting better, Yoochunah. And that means that maybe soon, I’ll get to see you.

This time, I’ll be good. I promise.

I love you, Yoochunah.

- Junsu

horror, angst, yoosu

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