Coincidences [Part 4] - B
Chapter: 4/4 (part B)
Pairings: HoMin
Rating: PG-13 (mention of heavy themes)
Genre: Romance, Angst
Summary:
There are some memories you won't talk about, some things you won't be, some feelings you can't have. There's what your life is going to be. And there's the moment when Chance decides to thwart Fate, and Changmin finds himself facing choices he thought had been taken from him.
April, 30th.
Yunho knew exactly what to expect.
He knows the reasons. He knows the past. He can guess everything else, what must be going in Changmin’s head and heart, and why it affects him that much. He saw it happen too.
He witnessed imperceptible changes in the other’s behavior the past weeks. How Changmin turned a little more pensive, a little more distant, a little more nervous. The apprehensive look in his eyes at times. Pale smiles and strained laughter. Silences. Sometimes upset, angry, unjust even. Yunho recognized here some of the incomprehensible changes he had to face a year ago.
But this time, he understands, and that makes all the difference.
It’s ten to midnight.
Changmin sat on his side of the bed, legs brought close to his chest, face buried in his crossed arms. He’s breathing loud, as if obliging himself to calm down and not go hysterical on him. He hasn’t spoken a word that evening. His anxiety is palpable, to the point that it’s undermining even Yunho’s resolve not to let himself be affected. There’s been a knot in his heart all day.
He switches the bedroom lights off, climbing on the bed to sit next to Changmin.
He’d like to find a way to convince him all will be fine. He’d like to be sure of it himself.
It’s been a long time since Yunho last felt that unsure around the younger man. The past days brought Changmin’s fears bare; the first wrong move on his part will probably be enough to trigger a bout of panic.
Yunho can nearly hear it, that obsessive thought in the other’s head that goes ‘why are you still here’, ‘why did I come back?’ and ‘why did you let me?’. He knew what to expect. It still hurts a little.
Yunho watches him silently, often glancing against his will at the alarm clock. Five minutes. He wonders if he can actually relate to a tenth of what Changmin is going through right now. The younger man rarely speaks about it; it’s like he doesn’t know how. Two minutes. One minute left, and Yunho settles for a light kiss on his temple.
A nervous tremor runs through Changmin’s body and he raises his head slowly, turning to look at him. Yunho’s heart drops. It’s night, but not dark enough to blot the shining tracks under the other’s eyes. He didn’t hear anything. He doesn’t tell him not to cry. He can’t stop looking at him, can’t find the words that’d mirror the way he feels right now. Yunho opens his arms.
He watches silently as Changmin wipes tears away with the back of his hand, moving closer without saying a word. The soft rustle of sheets. Fumbling touches, a hand gripping the front of his T-shirt, hair brushing lightly against his jaw. The warmth of another body nesting in his embrace; familiar, comforting. Changmin stops moving after a few seconds, Yunho wraps his arms tight around him, and everything stills.
A long, shaky breath; then silence.
Quiet seconds drifting away into the night, passing by them in an uninterrupted flow of blended sensations. The scents, darkness, apprehension and need. Close, as close as possible, yet it’s never enough. Yunho keeps tightening his hold, Changmin’s fingers are digging into his sides, stripped emotions fluttering in both their hearts and desperately struggling to fill all remaining gaps.
It was a vertiginous journey, it’s a blind leap into unknown. No going back now.
“I love you”, Changmin whispers somewhere late into the night, his voice urgent and tense. The words sound oddly loud, after hours spent listening to silence.
“Changmin…”
“I love you so much I-I…”
The young man’s voice falters and he stops talking. The knot in Yunho’s heart hasn’t left. Same for the lump in his throat. Changmin can’t see it, his face still pressed against his shoulder, but Yunho has been following the slow ageing of night for a while now; black turning to a dark grey, announcing the break of a new day. Pallid and bleak. Reluctant.
He closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. It’s nothing but another morning. He won’t let it matter.
He shifts, leaning against the pillows to find a more comfortable position. He’s rubbing Changmin’s back slowly with one hand, playing distractedly with his hair with the other. Waiting. Yunho listens as the other’s breathing evens out, his body relaxing at last after hours of nerve-wracking watch. He doesn’t move until he’s sure Changmin finally fell asleep. Only then does Yunho open his eyes again, blinking weariness away to stare at the perfectly still frame in his arms.
Changmin’s face, pale but peaceful at last. The slow rising and falling of his chest. Hands still loosely holding onto him. Resigned or sure, it’s hard to tell.
Yunho frowns slightly, his expression hardening a little. Who knows, then, the thoughts taking shape in the hidden recesses of his mind, and the resolves anchoring deep into that profound heart.
Yunho doesn’t lie, doesn’t hide, doesn’t run. He sometimes shows too much or goes too fast, and isn’t afraid of giving things he won’t be able to take back. But ‘too much’ doesn’t mean ‘everything’. ‘Too fast’ isn’t without reason or aim. There’s what Yunho gives but also what he takes, and won’t let go of. And while he doesn’t lie, there are words he won’t say. Promises. Dares. Certainties. A quiet game he plays with Life, underneath the surface.
Ten minutes passed, he hasn’t looked away from Changmin even once. It will soon be two years, and it still feels like the younger man fell out from nowhere to perfect every part of him. Loose ends have been tied. Bitter times were consumed. Scars faded away, and Yunho has never felt so sure about anything in his life before.
He won’t lose.
It’s just another morning and Changmin is asleep in his arms, like he was always meant to be.
May, 12th.
Changmin counts the steps in the stairs on his way to Yunho’s place. Twenty-six. The hallway, the switch, the door, now as familiar as if he’d spent all his life here. Even the sound of the keys turning in the lock is somehow comforting. It’s the smell that really does the trick though, coming forth as soon as he opens the door, like to welcome him home.
He’s supposed to go buy some groceries before Yunho comes back. They are out of coffee. Ink cartridges. Milk. Yunho’s favorite chocolate cookies too. Changmin can keep telling him he likes sugary stuff too much, the other is at least as stubborn as him in his determination not to hear it. He shouldn’t buy them in the first place, Changmin muses, getting rid of his bag on his way to the kitchen. He shouldn’t, right. Easy to say. Indulging Yunho is way too gratifying.
Changmin pours himself a glass of water, drinking it down with an eye on his watch. Not even 6PM.
He comes back to the living room, mechanically switching the TV on just for the sake of having some background noise. He doesn’t like being home alone. He should’ve accepted his colleagues’ offer to meet for a drink after work. Should’ve gone straight to the closest store and be done with the groceries. Should’ve paid a visit to Sooyeon, like he promised he would.
Changmin stops in the middle of the living room, looking around absentmindedly. Commercials are succeeding each other on TV. He isn’t listening. He wants to go to bed, hide under the blankets, and hopefully fall asleep. Never mind that it’s still early evening.
It’s all he’s been doing the past days, or so it seems; sleep, sleep, and sleep. Yunho says jokingly he’s now living with a lazy old cat.
It’s Changmin’s way not to panic.
When he sleeps he doesn’t worry. Doesn’t remember. Doesn’t count. He’d never say it aloud, but while that time of the year has always been stressful, it’s plain torture with Yunho here. With Yunho in his every thought, at the center of his life, filling his days, his heart, his mind. Omnipresent, like almighty. Everywhere. All the time.
Changmin isn’t afraid something might happen to him, no. He’s sure.
It’ll be Yunho this year.
Tomorrow, next week, during work, at night, whether they’ll be together or not, something will happen, and whatever it is, it’ll be Yunho. Changmin can feel it. It scares him beyond words. It’s breaking him as surely as if it had happened already.
He doesn’t speak about it. He can’t pretend to be doing fine either. He’s as lost as he’s terrified, needs Yunho as strongly as he feels guilty for needing him that much.
Changmin doesn’t know anymore what he’s doing, why it’s worth it, when it’ll end. It all keeps changing; confused, cruel, delusory. Even love gleams like selfishness. What’s right, wrong, fair or normal. How nothing makes sense anymore. How hard he tries not to regret. Why he doesn’t cry, because Yunho could see. Changmin can’t be without him, he can’t. ‘Murderer’, Jisoo said. Six years later, it’s still echoing in a corner of his head.
May 12th; not even two weeks, but Changmin doesn’t think he can hold on for much longer. Those two halves of his life simply won’t ever match; the gap in between is where he lives now.
Times when he’s afraid it’s driving him crazy, others when he wishes that it’d be the case. It’ll be Yunho this year, and he doesn’t want to be here to see it happen. And he can’t stand being away from him.
Changmin sleeps, sleeps, and sleeps, so that he can’t feel himself falling.
He refuses to wake up unless it’s Yunho’s fingers threading through his hair, and Yunho’s voice telling him to get up. He can’t stifle the cold murmur at the back of his head that says it could be the last time. He keeps dreaming about Yunho crying, screaming, accusing; he should never have told him. Changmin apologizes to darkness when the older man is asleep. Maybe he’s mad already.
It doesn’t matter, as long as Yunho is here.
He’ll soon hate himself for having let those words into his heart.
Nothing’s sure, nothing, except that Time passes and the end has never been closer.
The news jingle rises loudly, making him startle. Changmin glances at the TV blearily, abruptly brought back to his surroundings. Right. Sleep. He’ll wait for Yunho. They’ll go to the store later, maybe meet Sooyeon together. Like this. It’s better, like this. Together. Or maybe it isn’t.
Changmin shakes his head, trying in vain to clear his thoughts. He needs sleep. Silence. Darkness. He’s tired. Yunho isn’t home, and it feels like the world misplaced that priceless axis it’s supposed to revolve around. He feels slightly tipsy, like he drank a little too much. It’s the nerves, the fatigue. It’s okay. He’ll sleep, and, for a blissful interlude of peace, forget.
Thinking of nothing but the promise of oblivion it offers, Changmin starts walking towards the bedroom. And stops dead in his tracks.
Suddenly, caught off guard, he stills right before leaving the living room. His heart froze for no clear reason. He doesn’t know why, doesn’t want to know. Unmoving. Suspended. One step away from disaster; a precarious balance, one he won’t manage to keep.
Crackling indistinctly on the verge of his consciousness, Changmin recognized it. Here, right here. It takes a second before he realizes it’s something he just heard.
He turns around slowly. The walls are narrowing down on him; harder to breathe, his chest too tight, his mind blank as terror. It’s coming, it happened. Soon, very soon, imminent. Now.
It’s on TV.
Here, right here; colors he recognizes, orange and blue, a sign he knows. Arc-I, it means.
His heart plummets. Changmin blinks, frozen on spot. Arc-I office. That’s what the man on TV said, that’s what his senses grasped before him. “Several casualties”, the man is now adding, “the exact number of victims is still undetermined”. His hands are shaking. There are words written at the bottom of the screen, words he refuses to understand. Gas explosion. Victims. Accident. Arc-I.
“…half an hour before the office closing time…”
Changmin refuses to understand, he won’t. He’s sinking. Falling into the sky as the world overturns.
He fell on the floor, his legs gave out, he’s sinking. His heart fell too. The room is swinging around him, lights are shutting down one after the other, the man’s voice is thundering in darkness, distorted, inhuman. Changmin won’t understand. He’ll stop before that. Right. He’ll stop before the realization falls upon him. He has to. It’ll be too much this time. Will be too much. Will crush, shatter and hurt hurt hurt.
Sirens, fumes, orange and blue.
“…still uncertain, but according to…”
His calm voice, calm face, calm everything that makes Changmin want to tear him apart. Fingers digging into his palms. Staring at the TV screen. His heart banging inside his chest, wild with pain he refuses to understand. Changmin will stop before it’s too late. He draws in a sharp breath, loud and tight, and decides it’ll be the last one.
Will stop.
Everything.
He’s sinking, underwater, deep, where feelings won’t find him, reality won’t reach him. Like he doesn’t exist. Like it’s not him, here and now. Before he understands. Before guilt, hurt and ‘what if’.
“…important damages, rescue teams are still…”
Red turns purple, white looks grayish, darkness spreading like an ominous veil in front of his eyes. His heart sped up, blood rushing incoherently through his veins. Eyes wide open. Blurred shapes, wet and warm; he’s crying. It’s just water. It’s nothing. Changmin doesn’t have to understand. He can stop now. He will. The door opens. He won’t breathe, won’t hear the simplest call of life.
White stars flashing before him, falling into the sky, and it’s night now. It’s ending. It’s over. He’ll stop before he crashes down.
“Changmin?”
Feels faint… His head hurts. He can’t feel the tip of his fingers anymore. All he can hear is the furious pounding of his heart, like trying to enforce its own thirst for life. Frantic. Alien. Changmin is going to pass out, and he’s desperately hoping he won’t wake up at that same place, as the same person. He doesn’t want to understand. He wants to disappear before everything hurts, twists, tears. Fast. Fast.
“What’s wrong??”
He should’ve remembered Fate never had mercy.
Yunho’s face just appeared, distinctly standing out amidst foggy lines.
Changmin clearly hears the sob that’s ripped from his own chest, a cruel hand digging into flesh to wrench it from his heart. Emotions surge, blast, scream; a violent wave of confused feelings he won’t be able to absorb. Too much. He’s yielding already. His reason, mind, will, strength, whatever it is, it’s yielding. Can’t stop it. Slipping from his hands. Breaking into pieces.
Yunho looks deadly pale in the darkness around, and Changmin knows this isn’t real.
Of course, he knows.
“Changmin-ah??!!”
I killed you.
‘I killed you’ but he can’t speak. His lips won’t move. The world is fading away, erasing Yunho as it goes. Changmin did it. He dared Fate, foolish, selfish, insane. He did it. His heart convulses in his chest, releasing a soundless scream of pain, inarticulate and miserable. He knew… Changmin knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand it. Not Yunho. Not Yunho, not like that, and he’d rather be dead, mad… anything, anything but this…
It hurts.
It hurts but it’s different.
Before he can make sense of it, it happens again. Sharp pain bursts on the left side of his face, shaking whatever tight grip shock was having onto him. And Changmin breathes in.
Loud and hoarse, air like fire, colors spinning around him. Shaking uncontrollably. Feels sick, weak, lost. He can feel the bitter sting of tears. Can hear his own choked voice, sobs fighting to be let out while air painfully forces a way in… breathe, don’t, hurts, stop… he’s falling apart, falling to the side, too late. He’ll hit the ground.
No. It stopped, up, right. He doesn’t understand.
“Alright… it’s alright…”
Like hands, arms, words. A touch and voice he recognizes, except it can’t be.
“Just breathe Changmin-ah… breathe in, it’s fine.”
It’s not fine. Changmin killed him, murderer, he did it and now it’s too late.
A new surge of anguish comes up, drowning his heart in tears, overwhelming distress erasing every coherent thought. Changmin can’t think. Nauseous, hot, icy, everything and anything, all at the same time. He struggles against whatever is restraining him, feeling it come up his throat, and manages to free himself right on time. He throws up, gasping, sight blurred, and right when Changmin starts wondering if he’s truly mad now, the world rights itself again. He’s being pulled up. A strong grip, solid shapes, quiet words.
“It’s okay… calm down, I’m here…”
All wrong, all is wrong, sick, crushed, hurt, it’s the worst he’s ever felt yet something’s right.
And Changmin reacts instinctively, blindly searching for a nameless presence, his hands reaching out without even knowing what they’re looking for. It probably doesn’t exist anyway. It’s in his head, all in his head; a lie, a mirage, a phantom.
Then Changmin’s hands find something to hold, and it’s like a whole part of him collapses, quiet and painless.
He tries to curl on himself but something’s keeping him still, holding him close. Tears rise again, but they’re not quite the same already. There are hands on his face, struggling vainly to stop them. There’s something he should see now.
Changmin obliges himself to open his eyes, swaying, drowning maybe, but he opens his eyes at last, and it’s him he sees. He is crying as well. He holds him tighter and presses his lips hard against his forehead, saying words that don’t need to make sense. It’s his voice. His eyes. His arms.
It burns.
It burns but that feels right.
A violent shudder shakes his whole body and immediately arms tighten around him, so strongly it nearly hurts. A soft string of curses. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t dare to. Cold. Used. Lost. But Changmin’s hands are still weakly holding onto him, and he barely… scared, hesitant, but he tries, fingers tentatively tightening their grip. It’s real.
It’s real.
He doesn’t understand. Changmin closes his eyes, mute tears drenching his face, his neck, soothing. Silent sobs. Erratic heartbeats. He doesn’t know if it’s a nightmare or a dream, if he wants to wake up or not. A last trick from Fate. Providence’s helpful hand. Maybe he’s just mad, the past days were too much and his mind shattered. Maybe. Scared. Tired. Hurt.
“Changmin-ah…”
He tries to look again, eyelids heavy, tears too many. He’d like to check, but his hands refuse to let go of whatever small part of him they managed to take hold of. It’s like he will disappear if he as much as moves. He’s still shaking uncontrollably. Confused. He was so sure. He knew. Of course. That’s how it was going to be. He doesn’t understand.
“I’m fine…”
A hand comes to cup his face, obliging him to look up.
“I’m fine, see…”
Changmin doesn’t have the will to resist. He obeys, blinks tears away, sees him again, and the image refuses to leave. Touches refuse to fade. Arms aren’t letting go. It’s real, everything tells him, even till a steadily growing sensation of safety deep inside. He doesn’t know how to feel anymore. It’s right, except it shouldn’t be. He knows. He knows.
He shouldn’t be here, and yet…
“Y-Yunho…”
He barely dares to say it. Scared, because it’s nothing more than a thin, thin veil… frail, vaporous, so tenuous it could be unreal. It shouldn’t be real.
“I’m here.”
Hands keep touching his face, light, warm, insistent, obliging him to feel… Look, they are saying, look, it’s fine, and Changmin is starting to hear them. He bites on his lower lip to repress a sob and it becomes a whimper, so small it strikes him how he should be crazy with grief right now… shouldn’t be calming down, shouldn’t feel as if maybe…
“I’m here okay…? It’s fine.”
But Changmin’s heart steadied, he’s breathing right, isn’t shaking as much.
He can see now, can hear, can think, and his hands aren’t holding onto an illusion. It’s Yunho stroking his hair, rubbing his sides and wiping tears away. It’s Yunho watching him with shining eyes, and Changmin never saw him cry like this before. He looks upset, worried, afraid, but it goes beyond that. Sad maybe… just sad, heartbreakingly so, but before Changmin can really place it, his attention drifted away.
Like a light pressure at the edge of his gaze… a subtle tension, something to maintain, keep still, fasten. Shimmering, not fixed yet, hesitant. The emotions radiating from Yunho’s face, unlimited while bound, like desperate to reach him. Indefinable frailty in his every gesture, a presence strong yet unbelievably delicate. It could break with one clumsy move.
No… no, it’s not that. Not a dream so vivid it looks true, but reality fragile enough to bear the appearance of an illusion. And Changmin finally gets it.
“Yunho…”
It’s nothing but a sigh, barely tinged with wonder.
Something should’ve happened but it didn’t. Yunho shouldn’t be here, yet he is.
His heart carefully starts a brighter rhythm. It still hurts but pain is becoming numb, only the dead shadow of an aborted loss. Changmin’s hold onto the other’s clothes turned into a death grip. Eyes wide. Dazed tears. The realization is fluttering in a corner of his mind, and it feels immense already. It keeps growing, keeps gaining strength, colors, wildness and life. Beautiful enough to fill his eyes with the warmest tears he’s ever shed.
“It’s over…”, he says nearly despite himself, a quiet echo of the clamor slowly rising inside.
Yunho’s gaze doesn’t shift; he frowns, and Changmin knows he doesn’t get it.
“It’s over”, he repeats, and that conviction strengthens just saying it once more.
It’s over; so abrupt it could be absurd, if it wasn’t so terribly important. He fights a sudden urge to laugh, knowing he’ll look insane but he isn’t… he isn’t crazy, he isn’t imagining it. Changmin can’t make up something that perfect. The idea keeps taking more definite shapes in his mind, and the more distinct it becomes, the more beautiful it is. The more real it seems.
It’s not a dream, and fragments of grayness are falling from his eyes one after the other. He can’t look away from Yunho. Yunho who shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be fine, but he is… he is, and his heart is soaring inside his chest like it’s the sky it wants to reach.
It’s over.
Fate missed.
Changmin was convinced, absolutely convinced that it’d happen. It should’ve been today. It should’ve been this; orange and blue, Arc-I, sirens, gas explosion, May 12th. That’s how it should’ve been. How it’d have ended, because this is something Changmin would never have recovered from. But it didn’t happen.
Fate aimed, like every year. It singled him out, following the rules of Its merciless game. It was ready to strike and kill, and punish him for having dared again. And It missed.
It didn’t happen. Yunho is here, safe, fine, and now… now, Changmin is absolutely certain, now it’s over. Everything’s over. It won’t happen again. Fate missed and averted Its eyes. It looked away from him. It’s over, and his heart is beating as if it’d never been free to do so before.
“Changmin-ah…”
He blinks, realizing belatedly that Yunho looks worried.
Changmin tries to smile and ends up shaking his head, finally finding the confidence to let go of the other’s shirt. He puts his arms around his neck instead, and lets Yunho hold him. He lets the tears run freely. Lets his heart explore what’s beyond a limit he never even knew existed. Entranced. A silent euphoria that’s still confined inside, patiently waiting for other ways to bloom.
It’s like a blindfold was lifted from his life. Touching the horizon. At peace. Safe. Small, yet it’s the whole world he can have if he wants.
He feels Yunho kiss the side of his head, obviously unsure, probably confused. It’s okay. Changmin will explain later, once he finds the right words. Later. Tonight. Tomorrow. Days, and days, and days. Infinite, stretching in front of him like a path without end. He wants to bathe in that feeling until he’s sure he won’t ever forget. His heart could be dancing inside his chest, so light it feels right now.
Changmin breathes out slowly, allowing his body to relax and fit just as it should in between Yunho’s arms.
He will say it all later. I love you, you were right, and thank you.
He hopes Yunho will understand, though words are only words, small and worn.
Now it all seems so clear though.
Yunho said to try, and Fate missed. He said to dare and Fate spared him. Yunho said to hold on, and now it’s over. Changmin doesn’t believe in coincidences. He holds him a little more firmly, gently pressing his hands on his back, heads brought close together. As silly as it sounds after what just happened, he wants to be here for him. He wants to protect him, because for the first time ever, Changmin feels able to.
It was dangerous, to want. To need. The urge to have, to call someone else’s heart his own. He never quite dared and Yunho could feel it, though he never fully understood. But it’s over now.
He’s already aware he’ll never manage to return a tenth of what he’s feeling at that exact moment. It’s his entire future, Yunho just handed back to him. Changmin hasn’t stopped crying.
Tears are rocking his heart, kindly nursing the wounds he thought would never heal. Yunho hasn’t realized what happened yet; he’s still holding him like there’s something wrong, but it’s okay. It’s the last time. It’s over, gone, erased.
The next time Changmin says “I love you”, he silently promises, his heart full to the brim… the next time, you’ll see, it’ll be just right. It’ll be easy. It won’t be for you alone, but it’ll be for us. Like you said.
It’ll be you and me, and nothing in between.
May, 13th.
It’s the first day of Changmin’s new life. It hasn’t started yet.
He’s still asleep, and whatever dreams are passing through his head, they can’t be as perfect as the way he’ll feel when he’ll wake up later. Yunho’s here, of course. He is here and they are together, and it could be for years, and years, and years. It could be without end. It’s just them now. They can decide, go forward, look back, stop, imagine and do.
They have the world they want just within their reach, waiting to be created. They can start any day.
“Deadly gas explosion”, newspapers’ headlines announce that morning, “five killed and dozens injured in Busan. Investigations are on-going.”
April 30th, a year later.
It’s a night as Yunho loves them. Warm, clear, and long, like he’s the one who’ll decide of when it’ll end.
It’s five minutes to midnight. There aren’t many people travelling this late; he has the road nearly all to himself. The highway. The night sky spreading wide above. Lights flashing by. A cool breeze sneaking in through the barely opened window. It tastes like complete freedom.
The car radio is quietly playing jazz; the kind Changmin hates because “it’s music that don’t make sense”. Yunho likes it for the exact same reason, and he can’t repress a smile as he looks on his right. The younger man fell asleep only ten minutes after they left Seoul. He hasn’t as much as stirred since, curled on the passenger seat and sleeping as soundly as if he was in his bed.
Yunho feels wide awake on the contrary, but decides that a short pause is needed by now. He isn’t used to driving a lot, especially not by night.
He stops a few minutes later, leaving radio and lights on as he walks around the car to stretch his legs. Everything is quiet around. They left Seoul’s lights behind about half an hour ago. The surroundings are dark and he can barely make out the mountains’ imposing shapes, immense shadows standing still against a somber blue.
He’s more than two hours away from his destination, but Yunho can afford to take his time. He has the whole night all to himself. Changmin doesn’t know where they are going.
He comes back to sit in the car, watching the younger man for a while before he turns the radio off to study his face in silence. Changmin keeps telling him to stop doing that, it’s creepy, I don’t like it.
Yunho needs those moments when he can let feelings unfurl, and make them grow as wide as his heart can reach. When nothing alters Changmin’s expression, be it a thought that’s a little too serious, or irony in a smile that could be so carefree. Moments when he’s unaware, exposing the truth of him without even realizing it.
Yunho doesn’t want to wake him up. He can’t refrain from reaching an arm out though, letting the tip of his fingers brush against his cheek lightly. Changmin doesn’t react, and a fond smile brightens Yunho’s features. Sometimes he wishes the younger man could see his heart, and how ridiculously important he is in there.
A glance towards the front of the car tells him it’s past midnight. It’s May 1st. It doesn’t matter.
It won’t ever matter again.
Yunho won.
It took him months to show Changmin how to love again; Changmin before, Changmin who didn’t want to dare, didn’t want to need, didn’t want to hope. Changmin who was so obviously damaged, incomplete and frozen, and lonely, painfully so. Changmin who already knew all the ways to his heart, and wasn’t even able to recognize the strength of the love beating for him inside.
But Changmin now… Changmin is learning how to live.
All Yunho has to do is watch; he couldn’t have wished for a more beautiful reward than this. He won’t let anyone witness the priceless growth of an existence that got rid of restraints. It happened as he knew it would, since he wanted it to.
Yunho doesn’t believe in Fate.
Future will become what he strives to create. Of course, it came true. All Changmin had to do was to come back to him.
Yunho doesn’t check the time when he finally reaches their destination. Changmin woke up a few minutes ago, as if he could sense that they’d arrive soon. He didn’t speak, just smiled sleepily to him and closed his eyes again.
The younger man spent the previous days asking where they’d go tonight, coming up with guesses that sometimes came dangerously close to what Yunho had in mind. But he managed to keep his secret intact - at least he believes he did, if Changmin’s obvious frustration was any indication. The other looks like he resigned himself to having a surprise by now.
Resigned doesn’t mean patient though. Yunho barely stopped the car and announced they’re here that Changmin is out.
Yunho smiles to himself, reaching behind blindly until he gets his hands on the blankets he brought for the occasion. No cold, tonight. No delay. No mistake. No place for chance. It has to be perfect.
Yunho leaves the car in turn, eyes already searching for Changmin. The younger man didn’t go far; he didn’t need to. They parked as close as possible, and night isn’t enough to preserve even an ounce of suspense. Changmin is standing perfectly still a few steps away, his back turned on him, and Yunho wonders absentmindedly what betrayed him first.
The sounds, probably. That unmistakable rumble as background, bottomless and eternal, regularly shaken by the sudden crashing of a valiant wave; a final onslaught of water against earth, always vain, endlessly repeated. It could be the scents too. Or the wind; vigorous, alive, joyous. Maybe it’s all three together.
Yunho takes a few steps forward, stopping only when he reaches Changmin’s side, and stares. It’s not the sea the younger man once told him about. It’s not that nearly lugubrious scenery; dark waves, dark sky, no stars, nothing. No.
The moon is nearly full tonight, spreading its unearthly halo on a patch of moving waters, silver rays dancing amidst waves. The sky is just as bright, lighted by countless sparks, far yet close. It could be stars playing with waves and foam splashing the sky. It could be the world turning upside down, an invitation to fall and never find the way back again.
Yunho looks on his left, and meets Changmin’s gaze. He hadn’t noticed the younger man was staring at him. Silent. Thoughtful; searching for something on his face, waiting maybe. Questions and answers are following each other in his eyes, too fast for him to grasp.
Changmin’s eyes.
They caught a ray of moonlight, and a silver spark is dancing freely in brown irises. It makes it even harder to guess what he could be thinking right now. Changmin isn’t looking away. He’s still staring at him. Yunho’s heart starts beating faster in spite of how confident he thought he was, and maybe that’s it… right now, what he loves most. Just that, the way Changmin won’t let it be simple. That elusive impression that there’s still something Yunho hasn’t seen, colors he doesn’t know, a place he hasn’t reached.
“I thought you’d like coming here”, he murmurs, and tries not to cringe at how unsure it sounded.
‘It’s a home I need’, he once told Changmin. It’s a lie. Or maybe it was true, but isn’t anymore. Maybe Yunho changed too.
Because Changmin is much more… so much more than a place to stay, someone to come back to. Changmin is where Yunho always wants to be better, stronger, brighter. Where there’s no such thing as stopping now, “because we won’t reach higher”.
They are perfect, Changmin and him, perfect without ever being achieved.
He doesn’t move when the younger man comes closer, shuts his eyes as Changmin kisses him. Then Yunho takes his hand and starts pulling him towards a small path, hidden amidst shadows and leading straight to the beach. The sea. The sky. Moon reflecting on waves and stars reaching for earth. The promise of horizon, beginnings and rebirth.
It’s the sunrise, they came to see.
Note: It took a while and gave me a bit of a hard time, but here you go!!~
I'll let you free to decide of what you want to see here.... supernatural or not, purely psychological angst or a touch of 'something else' in it ^^ Depends on the POV you feel closest to... I'm keeping lines blurred on purpose but the overall plot should be clear enough, facts wise :) Don't hesitate to ask if that's not the case~
The 'May-curse' thing is inspired by a real-life story I saw on TV (though I exaggerated it a lot here, obviously...). The HoMin relationship as a whole - and especially in that last chapter - is loosely based on Lifehouse's Broken. Everything else is miiiiine (the boys too, in my dreams XD).
I hope you enjoyed the read!
Pairings: HoMin
Rating: PG-13 (mention of heavy themes)
Genre: Romance, Angst
Summary:
There are some memories you won't talk about, some things you won't be, some feelings you can't have. There's what your life is going to be. And there's the moment when Chance decides to thwart Fate, and Changmin finds himself facing choices he thought had been taken from him.
April, 30th.
Yunho knew exactly what to expect.
He knows the reasons. He knows the past. He can guess everything else, what must be going in Changmin’s head and heart, and why it affects him that much. He saw it happen too.
He witnessed imperceptible changes in the other’s behavior the past weeks. How Changmin turned a little more pensive, a little more distant, a little more nervous. The apprehensive look in his eyes at times. Pale smiles and strained laughter. Silences. Sometimes upset, angry, unjust even. Yunho recognized here some of the incomprehensible changes he had to face a year ago.
But this time, he understands, and that makes all the difference.
It’s ten to midnight.
Changmin sat on his side of the bed, legs brought close to his chest, face buried in his crossed arms. He’s breathing loud, as if obliging himself to calm down and not go hysterical on him. He hasn’t spoken a word that evening. His anxiety is palpable, to the point that it’s undermining even Yunho’s resolve not to let himself be affected. There’s been a knot in his heart all day.
He switches the bedroom lights off, climbing on the bed to sit next to Changmin.
He’d like to find a way to convince him all will be fine. He’d like to be sure of it himself.
It’s been a long time since Yunho last felt that unsure around the younger man. The past days brought Changmin’s fears bare; the first wrong move on his part will probably be enough to trigger a bout of panic.
Yunho can nearly hear it, that obsessive thought in the other’s head that goes ‘why are you still here’, ‘why did I come back?’ and ‘why did you let me?’. He knew what to expect. It still hurts a little.
Yunho watches him silently, often glancing against his will at the alarm clock. Five minutes. He wonders if he can actually relate to a tenth of what Changmin is going through right now. The younger man rarely speaks about it; it’s like he doesn’t know how. Two minutes. One minute left, and Yunho settles for a light kiss on his temple.
A nervous tremor runs through Changmin’s body and he raises his head slowly, turning to look at him. Yunho’s heart drops. It’s night, but not dark enough to blot the shining tracks under the other’s eyes. He didn’t hear anything. He doesn’t tell him not to cry. He can’t stop looking at him, can’t find the words that’d mirror the way he feels right now. Yunho opens his arms.
He watches silently as Changmin wipes tears away with the back of his hand, moving closer without saying a word. The soft rustle of sheets. Fumbling touches, a hand gripping the front of his T-shirt, hair brushing lightly against his jaw. The warmth of another body nesting in his embrace; familiar, comforting. Changmin stops moving after a few seconds, Yunho wraps his arms tight around him, and everything stills.
A long, shaky breath; then silence.
Quiet seconds drifting away into the night, passing by them in an uninterrupted flow of blended sensations. The scents, darkness, apprehension and need. Close, as close as possible, yet it’s never enough. Yunho keeps tightening his hold, Changmin’s fingers are digging into his sides, stripped emotions fluttering in both their hearts and desperately struggling to fill all remaining gaps.
It was a vertiginous journey, it’s a blind leap into unknown. No going back now.
“I love you”, Changmin whispers somewhere late into the night, his voice urgent and tense. The words sound oddly loud, after hours spent listening to silence.
“Changmin…”
“I love you so much I-I…”
The young man’s voice falters and he stops talking. The knot in Yunho’s heart hasn’t left. Same for the lump in his throat. Changmin can’t see it, his face still pressed against his shoulder, but Yunho has been following the slow ageing of night for a while now; black turning to a dark grey, announcing the break of a new day. Pallid and bleak. Reluctant.
He closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. It’s nothing but another morning. He won’t let it matter.
He shifts, leaning against the pillows to find a more comfortable position. He’s rubbing Changmin’s back slowly with one hand, playing distractedly with his hair with the other. Waiting. Yunho listens as the other’s breathing evens out, his body relaxing at last after hours of nerve-wracking watch. He doesn’t move until he’s sure Changmin finally fell asleep. Only then does Yunho open his eyes again, blinking weariness away to stare at the perfectly still frame in his arms.
Changmin’s face, pale but peaceful at last. The slow rising and falling of his chest. Hands still loosely holding onto him. Resigned or sure, it’s hard to tell.
Yunho frowns slightly, his expression hardening a little. Who knows, then, the thoughts taking shape in the hidden recesses of his mind, and the resolves anchoring deep into that profound heart.
Yunho doesn’t lie, doesn’t hide, doesn’t run. He sometimes shows too much or goes too fast, and isn’t afraid of giving things he won’t be able to take back. But ‘too much’ doesn’t mean ‘everything’. ‘Too fast’ isn’t without reason or aim. There’s what Yunho gives but also what he takes, and won’t let go of. And while he doesn’t lie, there are words he won’t say. Promises. Dares. Certainties. A quiet game he plays with Life, underneath the surface.
Ten minutes passed, he hasn’t looked away from Changmin even once. It will soon be two years, and it still feels like the younger man fell out from nowhere to perfect every part of him. Loose ends have been tied. Bitter times were consumed. Scars faded away, and Yunho has never felt so sure about anything in his life before.
He won’t lose.
It’s just another morning and Changmin is asleep in his arms, like he was always meant to be.
May, 12th.
Changmin counts the steps in the stairs on his way to Yunho’s place. Twenty-six. The hallway, the switch, the door, now as familiar as if he’d spent all his life here. Even the sound of the keys turning in the lock is somehow comforting. It’s the smell that really does the trick though, coming forth as soon as he opens the door, like to welcome him home.
He’s supposed to go buy some groceries before Yunho comes back. They are out of coffee. Ink cartridges. Milk. Yunho’s favorite chocolate cookies too. Changmin can keep telling him he likes sugary stuff too much, the other is at least as stubborn as him in his determination not to hear it. He shouldn’t buy them in the first place, Changmin muses, getting rid of his bag on his way to the kitchen. He shouldn’t, right. Easy to say. Indulging Yunho is way too gratifying.
Changmin pours himself a glass of water, drinking it down with an eye on his watch. Not even 6PM.
He comes back to the living room, mechanically switching the TV on just for the sake of having some background noise. He doesn’t like being home alone. He should’ve accepted his colleagues’ offer to meet for a drink after work. Should’ve gone straight to the closest store and be done with the groceries. Should’ve paid a visit to Sooyeon, like he promised he would.
Changmin stops in the middle of the living room, looking around absentmindedly. Commercials are succeeding each other on TV. He isn’t listening. He wants to go to bed, hide under the blankets, and hopefully fall asleep. Never mind that it’s still early evening.
It’s all he’s been doing the past days, or so it seems; sleep, sleep, and sleep. Yunho says jokingly he’s now living with a lazy old cat.
It’s Changmin’s way not to panic.
When he sleeps he doesn’t worry. Doesn’t remember. Doesn’t count. He’d never say it aloud, but while that time of the year has always been stressful, it’s plain torture with Yunho here. With Yunho in his every thought, at the center of his life, filling his days, his heart, his mind. Omnipresent, like almighty. Everywhere. All the time.
Changmin isn’t afraid something might happen to him, no. He’s sure.
It’ll be Yunho this year.
Tomorrow, next week, during work, at night, whether they’ll be together or not, something will happen, and whatever it is, it’ll be Yunho. Changmin can feel it. It scares him beyond words. It’s breaking him as surely as if it had happened already.
He doesn’t speak about it. He can’t pretend to be doing fine either. He’s as lost as he’s terrified, needs Yunho as strongly as he feels guilty for needing him that much.
Changmin doesn’t know anymore what he’s doing, why it’s worth it, when it’ll end. It all keeps changing; confused, cruel, delusory. Even love gleams like selfishness. What’s right, wrong, fair or normal. How nothing makes sense anymore. How hard he tries not to regret. Why he doesn’t cry, because Yunho could see. Changmin can’t be without him, he can’t. ‘Murderer’, Jisoo said. Six years later, it’s still echoing in a corner of his head.
May 12th; not even two weeks, but Changmin doesn’t think he can hold on for much longer. Those two halves of his life simply won’t ever match; the gap in between is where he lives now.
Times when he’s afraid it’s driving him crazy, others when he wishes that it’d be the case. It’ll be Yunho this year, and he doesn’t want to be here to see it happen. And he can’t stand being away from him.
Changmin sleeps, sleeps, and sleeps, so that he can’t feel himself falling.
He refuses to wake up unless it’s Yunho’s fingers threading through his hair, and Yunho’s voice telling him to get up. He can’t stifle the cold murmur at the back of his head that says it could be the last time. He keeps dreaming about Yunho crying, screaming, accusing; he should never have told him. Changmin apologizes to darkness when the older man is asleep. Maybe he’s mad already.
It doesn’t matter, as long as Yunho is here.
He’ll soon hate himself for having let those words into his heart.
Nothing’s sure, nothing, except that Time passes and the end has never been closer.
The news jingle rises loudly, making him startle. Changmin glances at the TV blearily, abruptly brought back to his surroundings. Right. Sleep. He’ll wait for Yunho. They’ll go to the store later, maybe meet Sooyeon together. Like this. It’s better, like this. Together. Or maybe it isn’t.
Changmin shakes his head, trying in vain to clear his thoughts. He needs sleep. Silence. Darkness. He’s tired. Yunho isn’t home, and it feels like the world misplaced that priceless axis it’s supposed to revolve around. He feels slightly tipsy, like he drank a little too much. It’s the nerves, the fatigue. It’s okay. He’ll sleep, and, for a blissful interlude of peace, forget.
Thinking of nothing but the promise of oblivion it offers, Changmin starts walking towards the bedroom. And stops dead in his tracks.
Suddenly, caught off guard, he stills right before leaving the living room. His heart froze for no clear reason. He doesn’t know why, doesn’t want to know. Unmoving. Suspended. One step away from disaster; a precarious balance, one he won’t manage to keep.
Crackling indistinctly on the verge of his consciousness, Changmin recognized it. Here, right here. It takes a second before he realizes it’s something he just heard.
He turns around slowly. The walls are narrowing down on him; harder to breathe, his chest too tight, his mind blank as terror. It’s coming, it happened. Soon, very soon, imminent. Now.
It’s on TV.
Here, right here; colors he recognizes, orange and blue, a sign he knows. Arc-I, it means.
His heart plummets. Changmin blinks, frozen on spot. Arc-I office. That’s what the man on TV said, that’s what his senses grasped before him. “Several casualties”, the man is now adding, “the exact number of victims is still undetermined”. His hands are shaking. There are words written at the bottom of the screen, words he refuses to understand. Gas explosion. Victims. Accident. Arc-I.
“…half an hour before the office closing time…”
Changmin refuses to understand, he won’t. He’s sinking. Falling into the sky as the world overturns.
He fell on the floor, his legs gave out, he’s sinking. His heart fell too. The room is swinging around him, lights are shutting down one after the other, the man’s voice is thundering in darkness, distorted, inhuman. Changmin won’t understand. He’ll stop before that. Right. He’ll stop before the realization falls upon him. He has to. It’ll be too much this time. Will be too much. Will crush, shatter and hurt hurt hurt.
Sirens, fumes, orange and blue.
“…still uncertain, but according to…”
His calm voice, calm face, calm everything that makes Changmin want to tear him apart. Fingers digging into his palms. Staring at the TV screen. His heart banging inside his chest, wild with pain he refuses to understand. Changmin will stop before it’s too late. He draws in a sharp breath, loud and tight, and decides it’ll be the last one.
Will stop.
Everything.
He’s sinking, underwater, deep, where feelings won’t find him, reality won’t reach him. Like he doesn’t exist. Like it’s not him, here and now. Before he understands. Before guilt, hurt and ‘what if’.
“…important damages, rescue teams are still…”
Red turns purple, white looks grayish, darkness spreading like an ominous veil in front of his eyes. His heart sped up, blood rushing incoherently through his veins. Eyes wide open. Blurred shapes, wet and warm; he’s crying. It’s just water. It’s nothing. Changmin doesn’t have to understand. He can stop now. He will. The door opens. He won’t breathe, won’t hear the simplest call of life.
White stars flashing before him, falling into the sky, and it’s night now. It’s ending. It’s over. He’ll stop before he crashes down.
“Changmin?”
Feels faint… His head hurts. He can’t feel the tip of his fingers anymore. All he can hear is the furious pounding of his heart, like trying to enforce its own thirst for life. Frantic. Alien. Changmin is going to pass out, and he’s desperately hoping he won’t wake up at that same place, as the same person. He doesn’t want to understand. He wants to disappear before everything hurts, twists, tears. Fast. Fast.
“What’s wrong??”
He should’ve remembered Fate never had mercy.
Yunho’s face just appeared, distinctly standing out amidst foggy lines.
Changmin clearly hears the sob that’s ripped from his own chest, a cruel hand digging into flesh to wrench it from his heart. Emotions surge, blast, scream; a violent wave of confused feelings he won’t be able to absorb. Too much. He’s yielding already. His reason, mind, will, strength, whatever it is, it’s yielding. Can’t stop it. Slipping from his hands. Breaking into pieces.
Yunho looks deadly pale in the darkness around, and Changmin knows this isn’t real.
Of course, he knows.
“Changmin-ah??!!”
I killed you.
‘I killed you’ but he can’t speak. His lips won’t move. The world is fading away, erasing Yunho as it goes. Changmin did it. He dared Fate, foolish, selfish, insane. He did it. His heart convulses in his chest, releasing a soundless scream of pain, inarticulate and miserable. He knew… Changmin knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand it. Not Yunho. Not Yunho, not like that, and he’d rather be dead, mad… anything, anything but this…
It hurts.
It hurts but it’s different.
Before he can make sense of it, it happens again. Sharp pain bursts on the left side of his face, shaking whatever tight grip shock was having onto him. And Changmin breathes in.
Loud and hoarse, air like fire, colors spinning around him. Shaking uncontrollably. Feels sick, weak, lost. He can feel the bitter sting of tears. Can hear his own choked voice, sobs fighting to be let out while air painfully forces a way in… breathe, don’t, hurts, stop… he’s falling apart, falling to the side, too late. He’ll hit the ground.
No. It stopped, up, right. He doesn’t understand.
“Alright… it’s alright…”
Like hands, arms, words. A touch and voice he recognizes, except it can’t be.
“Just breathe Changmin-ah… breathe in, it’s fine.”
It’s not fine. Changmin killed him, murderer, he did it and now it’s too late.
A new surge of anguish comes up, drowning his heart in tears, overwhelming distress erasing every coherent thought. Changmin can’t think. Nauseous, hot, icy, everything and anything, all at the same time. He struggles against whatever is restraining him, feeling it come up his throat, and manages to free himself right on time. He throws up, gasping, sight blurred, and right when Changmin starts wondering if he’s truly mad now, the world rights itself again. He’s being pulled up. A strong grip, solid shapes, quiet words.
“It’s okay… calm down, I’m here…”
All wrong, all is wrong, sick, crushed, hurt, it’s the worst he’s ever felt yet something’s right.
And Changmin reacts instinctively, blindly searching for a nameless presence, his hands reaching out without even knowing what they’re looking for. It probably doesn’t exist anyway. It’s in his head, all in his head; a lie, a mirage, a phantom.
Then Changmin’s hands find something to hold, and it’s like a whole part of him collapses, quiet and painless.
He tries to curl on himself but something’s keeping him still, holding him close. Tears rise again, but they’re not quite the same already. There are hands on his face, struggling vainly to stop them. There’s something he should see now.
Changmin obliges himself to open his eyes, swaying, drowning maybe, but he opens his eyes at last, and it’s him he sees. He is crying as well. He holds him tighter and presses his lips hard against his forehead, saying words that don’t need to make sense. It’s his voice. His eyes. His arms.
It burns.
It burns but that feels right.
A violent shudder shakes his whole body and immediately arms tighten around him, so strongly it nearly hurts. A soft string of curses. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t dare to. Cold. Used. Lost. But Changmin’s hands are still weakly holding onto him, and he barely… scared, hesitant, but he tries, fingers tentatively tightening their grip. It’s real.
It’s real.
He doesn’t understand. Changmin closes his eyes, mute tears drenching his face, his neck, soothing. Silent sobs. Erratic heartbeats. He doesn’t know if it’s a nightmare or a dream, if he wants to wake up or not. A last trick from Fate. Providence’s helpful hand. Maybe he’s just mad, the past days were too much and his mind shattered. Maybe. Scared. Tired. Hurt.
“Changmin-ah…”
He tries to look again, eyelids heavy, tears too many. He’d like to check, but his hands refuse to let go of whatever small part of him they managed to take hold of. It’s like he will disappear if he as much as moves. He’s still shaking uncontrollably. Confused. He was so sure. He knew. Of course. That’s how it was going to be. He doesn’t understand.
“I’m fine…”
A hand comes to cup his face, obliging him to look up.
“I’m fine, see…”
Changmin doesn’t have the will to resist. He obeys, blinks tears away, sees him again, and the image refuses to leave. Touches refuse to fade. Arms aren’t letting go. It’s real, everything tells him, even till a steadily growing sensation of safety deep inside. He doesn’t know how to feel anymore. It’s right, except it shouldn’t be. He knows. He knows.
He shouldn’t be here, and yet…
“Y-Yunho…”
He barely dares to say it. Scared, because it’s nothing more than a thin, thin veil… frail, vaporous, so tenuous it could be unreal. It shouldn’t be real.
“I’m here.”
Hands keep touching his face, light, warm, insistent, obliging him to feel… Look, they are saying, look, it’s fine, and Changmin is starting to hear them. He bites on his lower lip to repress a sob and it becomes a whimper, so small it strikes him how he should be crazy with grief right now… shouldn’t be calming down, shouldn’t feel as if maybe…
“I’m here okay…? It’s fine.”
But Changmin’s heart steadied, he’s breathing right, isn’t shaking as much.
He can see now, can hear, can think, and his hands aren’t holding onto an illusion. It’s Yunho stroking his hair, rubbing his sides and wiping tears away. It’s Yunho watching him with shining eyes, and Changmin never saw him cry like this before. He looks upset, worried, afraid, but it goes beyond that. Sad maybe… just sad, heartbreakingly so, but before Changmin can really place it, his attention drifted away.
Like a light pressure at the edge of his gaze… a subtle tension, something to maintain, keep still, fasten. Shimmering, not fixed yet, hesitant. The emotions radiating from Yunho’s face, unlimited while bound, like desperate to reach him. Indefinable frailty in his every gesture, a presence strong yet unbelievably delicate. It could break with one clumsy move.
No… no, it’s not that. Not a dream so vivid it looks true, but reality fragile enough to bear the appearance of an illusion. And Changmin finally gets it.
“Yunho…”
It’s nothing but a sigh, barely tinged with wonder.
Something should’ve happened but it didn’t. Yunho shouldn’t be here, yet he is.
His heart carefully starts a brighter rhythm. It still hurts but pain is becoming numb, only the dead shadow of an aborted loss. Changmin’s hold onto the other’s clothes turned into a death grip. Eyes wide. Dazed tears. The realization is fluttering in a corner of his mind, and it feels immense already. It keeps growing, keeps gaining strength, colors, wildness and life. Beautiful enough to fill his eyes with the warmest tears he’s ever shed.
“It’s over…”, he says nearly despite himself, a quiet echo of the clamor slowly rising inside.
Yunho’s gaze doesn’t shift; he frowns, and Changmin knows he doesn’t get it.
“It’s over”, he repeats, and that conviction strengthens just saying it once more.
It’s over; so abrupt it could be absurd, if it wasn’t so terribly important. He fights a sudden urge to laugh, knowing he’ll look insane but he isn’t… he isn’t crazy, he isn’t imagining it. Changmin can’t make up something that perfect. The idea keeps taking more definite shapes in his mind, and the more distinct it becomes, the more beautiful it is. The more real it seems.
It’s not a dream, and fragments of grayness are falling from his eyes one after the other. He can’t look away from Yunho. Yunho who shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be fine, but he is… he is, and his heart is soaring inside his chest like it’s the sky it wants to reach.
It’s over.
Fate missed.
Changmin was convinced, absolutely convinced that it’d happen. It should’ve been today. It should’ve been this; orange and blue, Arc-I, sirens, gas explosion, May 12th. That’s how it should’ve been. How it’d have ended, because this is something Changmin would never have recovered from. But it didn’t happen.
Fate aimed, like every year. It singled him out, following the rules of Its merciless game. It was ready to strike and kill, and punish him for having dared again. And It missed.
It didn’t happen. Yunho is here, safe, fine, and now… now, Changmin is absolutely certain, now it’s over. Everything’s over. It won’t happen again. Fate missed and averted Its eyes. It looked away from him. It’s over, and his heart is beating as if it’d never been free to do so before.
“Changmin-ah…”
He blinks, realizing belatedly that Yunho looks worried.
Changmin tries to smile and ends up shaking his head, finally finding the confidence to let go of the other’s shirt. He puts his arms around his neck instead, and lets Yunho hold him. He lets the tears run freely. Lets his heart explore what’s beyond a limit he never even knew existed. Entranced. A silent euphoria that’s still confined inside, patiently waiting for other ways to bloom.
It’s like a blindfold was lifted from his life. Touching the horizon. At peace. Safe. Small, yet it’s the whole world he can have if he wants.
He feels Yunho kiss the side of his head, obviously unsure, probably confused. It’s okay. Changmin will explain later, once he finds the right words. Later. Tonight. Tomorrow. Days, and days, and days. Infinite, stretching in front of him like a path without end. He wants to bathe in that feeling until he’s sure he won’t ever forget. His heart could be dancing inside his chest, so light it feels right now.
Changmin breathes out slowly, allowing his body to relax and fit just as it should in between Yunho’s arms.
He will say it all later. I love you, you were right, and thank you.
He hopes Yunho will understand, though words are only words, small and worn.
Now it all seems so clear though.
Yunho said to try, and Fate missed. He said to dare and Fate spared him. Yunho said to hold on, and now it’s over. Changmin doesn’t believe in coincidences. He holds him a little more firmly, gently pressing his hands on his back, heads brought close together. As silly as it sounds after what just happened, he wants to be here for him. He wants to protect him, because for the first time ever, Changmin feels able to.
It was dangerous, to want. To need. The urge to have, to call someone else’s heart his own. He never quite dared and Yunho could feel it, though he never fully understood. But it’s over now.
He’s already aware he’ll never manage to return a tenth of what he’s feeling at that exact moment. It’s his entire future, Yunho just handed back to him. Changmin hasn’t stopped crying.
Tears are rocking his heart, kindly nursing the wounds he thought would never heal. Yunho hasn’t realized what happened yet; he’s still holding him like there’s something wrong, but it’s okay. It’s the last time. It’s over, gone, erased.
The next time Changmin says “I love you”, he silently promises, his heart full to the brim… the next time, you’ll see, it’ll be just right. It’ll be easy. It won’t be for you alone, but it’ll be for us. Like you said.
It’ll be you and me, and nothing in between.
May, 13th.
It’s the first day of Changmin’s new life. It hasn’t started yet.
He’s still asleep, and whatever dreams are passing through his head, they can’t be as perfect as the way he’ll feel when he’ll wake up later. Yunho’s here, of course. He is here and they are together, and it could be for years, and years, and years. It could be without end. It’s just them now. They can decide, go forward, look back, stop, imagine and do.
They have the world they want just within their reach, waiting to be created. They can start any day.
“Deadly gas explosion”, newspapers’ headlines announce that morning, “five killed and dozens injured in Busan. Investigations are on-going.”
April 30th, a year later.
It’s a night as Yunho loves them. Warm, clear, and long, like he’s the one who’ll decide of when it’ll end.
It’s five minutes to midnight. There aren’t many people travelling this late; he has the road nearly all to himself. The highway. The night sky spreading wide above. Lights flashing by. A cool breeze sneaking in through the barely opened window. It tastes like complete freedom.
The car radio is quietly playing jazz; the kind Changmin hates because “it’s music that don’t make sense”. Yunho likes it for the exact same reason, and he can’t repress a smile as he looks on his right. The younger man fell asleep only ten minutes after they left Seoul. He hasn’t as much as stirred since, curled on the passenger seat and sleeping as soundly as if he was in his bed.
Yunho feels wide awake on the contrary, but decides that a short pause is needed by now. He isn’t used to driving a lot, especially not by night.
He stops a few minutes later, leaving radio and lights on as he walks around the car to stretch his legs. Everything is quiet around. They left Seoul’s lights behind about half an hour ago. The surroundings are dark and he can barely make out the mountains’ imposing shapes, immense shadows standing still against a somber blue.
He’s more than two hours away from his destination, but Yunho can afford to take his time. He has the whole night all to himself. Changmin doesn’t know where they are going.
He comes back to sit in the car, watching the younger man for a while before he turns the radio off to study his face in silence. Changmin keeps telling him to stop doing that, it’s creepy, I don’t like it.
Yunho needs those moments when he can let feelings unfurl, and make them grow as wide as his heart can reach. When nothing alters Changmin’s expression, be it a thought that’s a little too serious, or irony in a smile that could be so carefree. Moments when he’s unaware, exposing the truth of him without even realizing it.
Yunho doesn’t want to wake him up. He can’t refrain from reaching an arm out though, letting the tip of his fingers brush against his cheek lightly. Changmin doesn’t react, and a fond smile brightens Yunho’s features. Sometimes he wishes the younger man could see his heart, and how ridiculously important he is in there.
A glance towards the front of the car tells him it’s past midnight. It’s May 1st. It doesn’t matter.
It won’t ever matter again.
Yunho won.
It took him months to show Changmin how to love again; Changmin before, Changmin who didn’t want to dare, didn’t want to need, didn’t want to hope. Changmin who was so obviously damaged, incomplete and frozen, and lonely, painfully so. Changmin who already knew all the ways to his heart, and wasn’t even able to recognize the strength of the love beating for him inside.
But Changmin now… Changmin is learning how to live.
All Yunho has to do is watch; he couldn’t have wished for a more beautiful reward than this. He won’t let anyone witness the priceless growth of an existence that got rid of restraints. It happened as he knew it would, since he wanted it to.
Yunho doesn’t believe in Fate.
Future will become what he strives to create. Of course, it came true. All Changmin had to do was to come back to him.
Yunho doesn’t check the time when he finally reaches their destination. Changmin woke up a few minutes ago, as if he could sense that they’d arrive soon. He didn’t speak, just smiled sleepily to him and closed his eyes again.
The younger man spent the previous days asking where they’d go tonight, coming up with guesses that sometimes came dangerously close to what Yunho had in mind. But he managed to keep his secret intact - at least he believes he did, if Changmin’s obvious frustration was any indication. The other looks like he resigned himself to having a surprise by now.
Resigned doesn’t mean patient though. Yunho barely stopped the car and announced they’re here that Changmin is out.
Yunho smiles to himself, reaching behind blindly until he gets his hands on the blankets he brought for the occasion. No cold, tonight. No delay. No mistake. No place for chance. It has to be perfect.
Yunho leaves the car in turn, eyes already searching for Changmin. The younger man didn’t go far; he didn’t need to. They parked as close as possible, and night isn’t enough to preserve even an ounce of suspense. Changmin is standing perfectly still a few steps away, his back turned on him, and Yunho wonders absentmindedly what betrayed him first.
The sounds, probably. That unmistakable rumble as background, bottomless and eternal, regularly shaken by the sudden crashing of a valiant wave; a final onslaught of water against earth, always vain, endlessly repeated. It could be the scents too. Or the wind; vigorous, alive, joyous. Maybe it’s all three together.
Yunho takes a few steps forward, stopping only when he reaches Changmin’s side, and stares. It’s not the sea the younger man once told him about. It’s not that nearly lugubrious scenery; dark waves, dark sky, no stars, nothing. No.
The moon is nearly full tonight, spreading its unearthly halo on a patch of moving waters, silver rays dancing amidst waves. The sky is just as bright, lighted by countless sparks, far yet close. It could be stars playing with waves and foam splashing the sky. It could be the world turning upside down, an invitation to fall and never find the way back again.
Yunho looks on his left, and meets Changmin’s gaze. He hadn’t noticed the younger man was staring at him. Silent. Thoughtful; searching for something on his face, waiting maybe. Questions and answers are following each other in his eyes, too fast for him to grasp.
Changmin’s eyes.
They caught a ray of moonlight, and a silver spark is dancing freely in brown irises. It makes it even harder to guess what he could be thinking right now. Changmin isn’t looking away. He’s still staring at him. Yunho’s heart starts beating faster in spite of how confident he thought he was, and maybe that’s it… right now, what he loves most. Just that, the way Changmin won’t let it be simple. That elusive impression that there’s still something Yunho hasn’t seen, colors he doesn’t know, a place he hasn’t reached.
“I thought you’d like coming here”, he murmurs, and tries not to cringe at how unsure it sounded.
‘It’s a home I need’, he once told Changmin. It’s a lie. Or maybe it was true, but isn’t anymore. Maybe Yunho changed too.
Because Changmin is much more… so much more than a place to stay, someone to come back to. Changmin is where Yunho always wants to be better, stronger, brighter. Where there’s no such thing as stopping now, “because we won’t reach higher”.
They are perfect, Changmin and him, perfect without ever being achieved.
He doesn’t move when the younger man comes closer, shuts his eyes as Changmin kisses him. Then Yunho takes his hand and starts pulling him towards a small path, hidden amidst shadows and leading straight to the beach. The sea. The sky. Moon reflecting on waves and stars reaching for earth. The promise of horizon, beginnings and rebirth.
It’s the sunrise, they came to see.
Note: It took a while and gave me a bit of a hard time, but here you go!!~
I'll let you free to decide of what you want to see here.... supernatural or not, purely psychological angst or a touch of 'something else' in it ^^ Depends on the POV you feel closest to... I'm keeping lines blurred on purpose but the overall plot should be clear enough, facts wise :) Don't hesitate to ask if that's not the case~
The 'May-curse' thing is inspired by a real-life story I saw on TV (though I exaggerated it a lot here, obviously...). The HoMin relationship as a whole - and especially in that last chapter - is loosely based on Lifehouse's Broken. Everything else is miiiiine (the boys too, in my dreams XD).
I hope you enjoyed the read!