Meteors [Chapter 1]
Chapter: 1
Pairings: YooMin bff (for now, and others to come)
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance, Fluff, slight Angst
Summary:
There is only one truth, Changmin believes, and only one question - is it the one you want?
There is only chance, Yoochun thinks - the meteor crashes, or it doesn’t. And if it does the only question is, will you run fast enough or let the stars collide?
Warning: this is painfully, agonizingly SLOW, and in many ways a characters study rather than a romance plot. This sort of story is not everyone's cup of tea and I suppose a warning is needed: here, you've been warned. I hope you'll enjoy anyway! ;-)
Part 1. Of questions and answers
Yoochun has a theory about life. He came up with it when he was nine - the day he was told one big stone from space blasted a once-cool world roamed by dinosaurs. He confirmed it three years later, rooted in front of his TV as the Titanic ran into the universe’s most famous iceberg. He got definite proof when he learnt that his dad met his mom because one evening he got on the wrong train.
You don’t decide of the important things - that’s Yoochun’s guideline in life.
The logical outcome was decreeing that working hard for what he wanted was just as efficient as waiting for it to come true. Sometimes Yoochun thinks he might be a tad lazy. Usually he congratulates himself on reaching the height of wisdom at such an early age.
But as the dinosaurs’ unfortunate fate should have taught him, the Universe doesn’t look kindly upon species set on not evolving, and one day someone up there decided that what Yoochun needed was a meteor of his own. The kind that sparks off a chain reaction, and looking back much, much later, that has you wondering at how you wouldn’t want things to be any other way.
Yoochun’s meteor hits him at 19, deviously shaped as a phone number.
At three in the morning, Yoochun forgot what they’re celebrating after who knows how many beers and soju bottles; no one bothers to keep count as long as they enjoy continued supply. There are seven of them crammed in Jungmoo’s tiny studio, talking and laughing loud, lost in a stuffy haze of smoke - your usual cigarettes plus some of that not quite legal stuff Myungbo gets from his cousin. Music, alcohol, worlds to reinvent before morning comes and reality crashes back down.
Yoochun is caught in a fierce debate about crap-you-must-do-before-turning-20 when Jungmoo gets an idea.
“Guuuys!!!” he bawls, waving his phone around and nearly taking Jaejoong’s eye out in the process. Then he dares them to call the number right before their own, following numerical order. He saw it on a TV show. It takes long minutes of tedious explanations before they all get the gist of it but then they’re wasted, and quickly agree the idea is brilliant.
They sit in a circle on the floor, wherever they find space, and Yoochun ends up wedged between Jaejoong and the fridge. Jungmoo solemnly asks for silence and dials a number amidst a concert of drunken ‘ssshhh’ and stifled laughs. Someone picks up after the fourth ring.
“Hello…?”
“It’s a guy!” Yongsik murmurs excitedly. Jaejoong looks about to put in his two cents and Yoochun quickly claps a hand over his mouth, wary of the shitty stuff Jaejoong blurts out when he’s drunk - though Jaejoong also blurts out shitty stuff when he isn’t drunk. Jaejoong blurts out shitty stuff all the time, but it doesn’t get on Yoochun’s nerves as badly when they are both sober.
“Who’s it?” they hear a sleepy voice ask.
“The President” Jungmoo answers loftily.
Yoochun bites down on Jaejoong’s arm to repress a giggle because that is incredibly funny. Jaejoong flings an arm out in an attempt to retaliate and bumps his head against the fridge instead.
“What?”
“President… you know…” and Jungmoo engages in a slurred version of the national anthem.
The guy hangs up with a mumbled “idiots” that no one hears amidst roars of laughter. Jungmoo stands up, a hand over the left side of his chest, holding a can up in the air - upside down, but it’s nearly empty and Yongsik doesn’t even notice the beer dribbling on top of his head - still singing, sending them all back into a fit of convulsive laughter. Yoochun manages to spot Myungbo’s face through his tears, darker than a red light and nearly as round. It looks like he stopped breathing and Yoochun wonders if you can really die of laughter. After that he isn’t too sure what happens, or in what order.
At some point Jaejoong talks to an old woman who calls him “pervert” when he calls her “honey”, so he calls her “pervert” in turn and she starts swearing copiously, with no result other than making Jaejoong howl “pervert” louder and louder until she hangs up with a huff. The guy that Yongsik calls skips preliminaries, going straight to an imaginative flow of insults that Yongsik punctuates with resigned hiccups. Someone threatens to call the cops. Then it’s Yoochun’s turn.
The others are utterly smashed at that point. Jungmoo is slumped on the floor with his ass sticking out, snoring blissfully. Myungbo is peering hopefully inside the rice-cooker in search of a surviving beer. Jaejoong keeps giggling and muttering “pervert”. The rest of them is equally useless, a mess of limbs and clothes with no clear identity.
Yoochun needs a few seconds to remember his own phone number - which ends with 12 - and a lot more to convince himself that 11 is indeed before 12. Right. He’s laughing to himself as he dials the number. He’ll say nothing. Just breathe loud like in horror movies, and if it’s a girl it’ll scare her to death. His victim picks up right after the third ring and Yoochun holds his breath, listening.
“It’s 4am.”
A guy, too bad. He doesn’t sound upset. He doesn’t even sound sleepy. Just his luck. Yoochun’s intoxicated mind scrambles for something to say and manages an inarticulate string of curses.
“…Who is it?”
Yoochun thinks hard, remembers his phone number, and decides he’ll be mysterious.
“I’m 12.”
“Are you sure?”
“…What?”
“You sound older than that.”
Yoochun doesn’t get it at once. Then it dawns on him and he giggles, pushing away Jaejoong who apparently decided to use him as his pillow for what remains of the night.
“No… no!! I’m 12! You’re 11.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Yeah… I- get off me Jae!”
“Who’s Jae?”
“My friend.”
“PERVERT!!!” Jaejoong yells in the phone and collapses back on Yoochun’s lap, laughing hysterically.
“Your friend is drunk too” the guy comments. Yoochun is delighted he understands so well.
“You’re interesting” he blurts out. He hears the guy laugh and straightens up, very proud of himself. On his right, Myungbo trips over nothing and plants his face into the orange lino, swearing profusely.
“Myungbo is drunk too” Yoochun babbles on, for some unknown reason feeling like he really needs to explain “but he… it’s cos of Jungmoo…”
“Why?”
“He got the idea” Yoochun starts giggling again. “He sang…”
He stops, frowning - why so many letters in ‘national anthem’. He sings it instead and the guy laughs, and says he’s interesting too. Yoochun decides he really likes him.
“I really like you” he declares solemnly. He remembers nothing after that.
When he wakes up the next day, disoriented and vaguely nauseous, Yoochun is only sure about two things: he has one heck of a headache, and Jaejoong might spill shitty stuff all the time but he’s exceptionally annoying when he has a hangover.
“Feels awful…”
“Mmh…”
“Yoochuuun...”
“…”
“Yoochuuuuuuun…!!”
“What?”
“I’m going to die.”
“No.”
“I’m going to die. I’m too young to die… I never went to Disneyland!!”
“You hate Mickey.”
“I hate mice. They’ve sneaky-sneaky eyes…”
“…”
“Yoochuuuuun…”
“…”
“Don’t ignore me!!”
Something sharp jabs painfully into his ribs and Yoochun cracks an eye open. He makes out black hair with rice cracker crumbs stuck in it, and what must be the tip of Jaejoong’s chin.
“You fell asleep on top of me” he groans, trying to push the other away.
“Better than the floor” Jaejoong mumbles, crushing his knee as he moves further on top of him to get more comfortable. It’d be cute if Jaejoong was a cuddly cat, but as it is Jaejoong is a 20 years old with pointy elbows and weighing much more than what his scrawny shape proclaims.
Yoochun is about to protest when Yongsik tells them to shut up. Yongsik is normally inoffensive but he experiences serious split personality problems when he’s a hangover. Yoochun deems it wiser not to say anything and he stays still and silent, staring lifelessly at the ceiling, until he hears his phone vibrate close. He gropes around until his fingers brush against something hard. He takes it and squints, wishing his eyes would be more willing to cooperate.
▪ You fell asleep ^^
No sender name, just a phone number. Yoochun frowns. His fingers aren’t cooperating either, the dead weight called Jaejoong isn’t helping, and it takes a while to answer.
Wh oare yu
▪ You don’t remember?
??
▪ I’m 11. That’s what you said.
11. Yoochun frowns harder, with the vague hope that it’ll help him grasp something right on the edge of his consciousness. As if on cue Jaejoong starts mumbling in his sleep. ‘Pervert’ - it sounds like. Yoochun suddenly remembers and immediately wishes he hadn’t. His phone vibrates again.
▪ I take it that you remember now…
In other circumstances, Yoochun would’ve found a smart answer. Right now though, his mind is blank as a cotton field, his head hurts like a dozen drunk elephants are holding a wild samba contest in there, and aspirin and good comeback lines are nowhere in sight.
Akghkgzlef
Yoochun presses ‘send’, swearing to himself he’ll never drink that much again.
That’s how it starts.
11 doesn’t tell him his name, Yoochun doesn’t say his either. After another short exchange of random texts (with a lot of teasing on one part and many akjhkhrd on the other), they find that something clicks, somehow. Years later, Yoochun will sum it up as “we were just both weirdoes, you know what they say about feathers flying in flocks” and a familiar voice will shoot back “don’t use expressions you don’t understand” followed by a stern but tad indignant “and I am not a weirdo”.
A week after the first messages, Yoochun is the one who suggests that they send each other one question per day. Texting 11 is fun and he’d like it to continue for a bit, whatever the pretext. We’ve to answer the truth, he adds. 11 readily agrees, only asking that those questions will have nothing to do with their identity. Sure, Yoochun answers - after all 11 could be a psychopath on a rampage, and he’s not too sure he could be defined as “sane” himself - and immediately gets a new message.
▪ What are you most afraid of?
Yoochun hesitates. The truth, they said. Who cares anyway?
Ghosts.
What’s the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?
▪ Crossing the road without looking
Yoochun barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling happily. Then he looks up and curses out loud when he realizes he’s missed his stop. He rushes out of the bus, oblivious of the looks people are shooting at him and at his purple hair - a stupid lost bet, but the stupider the bet, the more seriously Yoochun takes it.
What do you hate most?
▪ Cockroaches
▪ It’s 2AM, why aren’t you sleeping?
Had a nightmare
▪ What’s your favorite color?
Boring
▪ Just answer
Blue
What do you want to do right now?
▪ Eat ^^
Should have guessed…
What do you call an elephant that flies?
▪ A Dumbo jet
▪ And that’s a really lame joke
It’s Jae’s favorite :P
▪ How long have you known Jae?
5 years
It’s the first hour of the first class of the first day back to university after the holidays break, and Yoochun is bored out of his mind - half-collapsed on his desk, chin resting on his crossed arms, watching around dully as everyone else dutifully take notes down. All good students they are, he thinks sullenly… rule-abiding, do-gooders, fitting snuggly within society’s narrow standards. Not that Yoochun is going down the path of delinquency, but he at least tries not to play the sheep part.
He wonders why he even bothered with the giant farce university is proving to be.
Heck, he’d like to know why he’s studying business marketing when his dream job has been journalism all along - then he remembers it was that or bury himself in the happy world of insurances. Car insurances. Health insurances. Life insurances. All sunny perspectives. Yoochun loves his dad, but he’d rather not follow his steps and spend his life dealing with the problems normal people just don’t want to deal with.
He takes his phone out and starts typing a message, ignoring the scornful looks he’s getting from the guy on his left - the one who thinks the world is a cruel jungle where people eat each other and you’ve got to strike them dumb before they attempt anything cos they all think of nothing but personally making your life hell from the moment they say ‘hi’. Yoochun thinks said guy probably has lots of problems at home and a few more in his head.
Do you sometimes feel like you’re living the wrong life?
Yoochun stares at his text and scowls, annoyed at himself. He erases it before sending another one. Then he flashes a smirk at his neighbor just for the sake of seeing him fidget on his chair and stare warily, maybe assessing the probability of Yoochun hiding an ax under his desk.
What do you do when you’re bored?
▪ I’m never bored
You’re no fun…
▪ I see something red, what is it?
Yoochun beams. He spends the next thirty minutes furiously typing on his phone trying to guess the answer - not 11’s socks, not his bag, not a goldfish, not ketchup, not something alive, not something you can eat, not something sticky, not a pimple, not a Santa hat, not something that smells… It continues after class, on his way back home, during dinner and in his bed. He surrenders at 11pm.
You won
▪ Really?
Yeah.
▪ It’s a bit disappointing
Don’t push it
▪ ^^
Come on, what was it?
It turns out to be the color of Thailand on the world map in 11’s classroom today.
… I’m going to kill you
▪ You asked for it
I’m going to kill you anyway
Round 2 tomorrow. You’ll regret this.
▪ As you say
▪ Good night ^^
Good night :)
▪ What’s the time of the year you hate most?
October 24th. Do you have a driving license?
▪ No
▪ Why October 24th?
It’s the day my parents told me they wanted to get a divorce.
If I asked you to choose one letter in the alphabet?
▪ A
▪ So did your parents get divorced?
No. Can you do a handstand?
▪ Yes, if there’s someone to hold my legs up
That’s a ‘no’ then
▪ But before I could do cartwheels ^^
Fascinating
▪ On one hand!
Yoochun rolls on his back on the bed, smiling amusedly. 11 rarely keeps their convos going once the questions have been sent and answered (and on any other day he’d have ended it at ‘yes’), unless he feels bad about something. Apologies of sorts. For having insisted.
Yoochun throws his brother a helpless look that goes entirely ignored as Yoowhan pretends to be absorbed in playing games on his phone. Yoochun scowls and concentrates. If he tries hard enough, maybe he can teleport himself somewhere else.
Family reunion this afternoon - the utterly pointless sort. Yoochun is confident their parents don’t need help to make the perfect choice for the living room’s new wall paint color.
“I thought Tumbleweed would be good but your father-”
“However you call it, it’s pink.”
“Or Havana Cream…”
“That’s pink as well!”
“Fine. Maybe you could stop being a jerk and propose something! You only-”
“I told you that yellow-“
“You won’t put Canary all over my living room.”
“It’s mine too!”
“Yoochun, Yoowhan, say something!”
Yoowhan sinks deeper into the couch and mumbles unintelligibly. So much for solidarity between siblings - have Yoochun’s lengthy teachings about unbreakable brotherly bonds left such a fugitive impression? Yoochun kicks him in the shin and quickly grabs his phone.
EMERGENCY!! Yellow or pink?!
▪ Neither
Come on!!
▪ Beige ^^
“Yoochun??”
He looks up and meets both his parents’ expectant faces.
“Beige” Yoochun says brightly. His father looks at his mother, his mother looks at his father, and he sighs in relief as both seem to actually like the idea. How lame.
You’re a life savior <3
▪ Something you’d like to do someday but never told anyone before? ^^
Here he goes, Yoochun thinks, smiling to himself. Pushing it, but he rather likes it when 11 dares.
Get a tattoo
The first thing you do in the morning?
▪ Open my eyes ^^
Smart…
▪ Look right in front of you, what do you see?
The street, through my window
It’s raining
There’s a dog
A wet dog, since it’s raining
Probably stinks
Or maybe not… I don’t know if it’s true wet dogs stink
I’m allergic to dogs so I can’t go and check
▪ Stop spamming
:P
<3
▪ Idiot
<3
▪ Stop it
<3
▪ Have you ever dreamt you were flying?
No
Have you?
▪ Once
…last night, I suppose
▪ ^^
▪ What do you do when you’re sad?
This one makes Yoochun stop in the middle of street, although he’s already late and every second increases the probability of Jae trying to behead him once he finally reaches the mall.
I go out with my friends.
After that he hesitates, not sure about the best way to probe. Yoochun settles for something simple, hoping 11 will catch on.
Say the 1st word that comes to your mind?
▪ Lonely
And this one tugs at his heart.
Ever been abroad?
▪ Yes. What’s your favorite book?
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
▪ Interesting.
I love it ok, no need to make fun of it
▪ I said it was interesting, not that it was funny.
▪ And I like it too
Let me guess
It has to do with all that chocolate
▪ Can’t hide anything from you ^^
▪ Are you afraid of thunderstorms?
Yoochun looks out the window in time to see lightning rip the dark sky open, the blinding flash of light immediately followed by a low rumble that momentarily covers the sound of pouring rain.
No. Where are you now?
▪ On my way home
Tell me when you get there
▪ ^^
▪ What’s the best Christmas present you ever had?
My first bike.
What’s the worst Christmas present you ever had?
▪ A saltshaker
▪ Please don’t ask
Tomorrow :P
▪ =_=
Merry Christmas!!
▪ Merry Christmas ^^
Two weeks before his 22nd birthday, Yoochun gets in a fight with his boyfriend. It’s nothing serious - just something about how Yoochun might have stared a little too long at some guy in second year and how he might have smiled to him afterwards. But they fight for the sake of it, shout indignant reproaches at each other’s face, then Yoochun storms out of the small store they’re in.
He doesn’t see the car coming too fast on his left. All goes black in a split second, before he even gets to realize it hurts.
He stays unconscious for two days and wakes up on the third, much to the relief of his family and of a teary Jaejoong - who bypasses all conventional comments about how worried he was and how awful Yoochun looks to announce happily that he scared his now ex-boyfriend away with threats of denouncing him to the police for unpremeditated murder attempt.
It’s another two days before Yoochun remembers and asks for his phone. There are a dozen missed calls and more messages than he can count but he’s only interested in a few.
▪ Do you like sunset or sunrise better? - he reads on the first.
▪ Are you ok? - on the second.
▪ Are you ok?
▪ Are you ok?
▪ Are you ok?
It’s surely the medicine and weariness that make Yoochun want to cry, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s now single, unless it’s because the sun is shining really hard outside. Of course that idiot would stick to the ‘one question per day’ rule.
I’m sorry, something happened but it’s fine now
The answer comes in a heartbeat.
▪ Are you ok?
I’m fine
Yoochun doesn’t deem it necessary to talk about a couple broken ribs and his right leg in a cast, and of course the fact that he’s now single.
You were worried?
And so that day’s question is a pointless one with an obvious answer, but for some reason Yoochun wants to see it written. Tangible. Right in front of his eyes.
▪ Yes.
▪ Don’t do that again, please.
This one leaves a warm print on his heart.
▪ Something you’re proud of?
I can hold my breath for more than 2 minutes
What are you doing right now?
▪ Holding my breath
▪ …
51 seconds. Nice try :P
▪ Whatever
▪ You’re so weird
You’re so jealous
▪ I’m not
You hate losing
▪ That’s a silly game. I don’t care.
You’re jeaaalous
▪ I tell you I don’t care
Jealous
▪ Whatever
J
E
A
▪ How childish can you get?
L
O
U
S
▪ Seriously
:))))
▪ Don’t you have someone else to annoy?
They aren’t half as funny as you
Hey?
Don’t be mad
▪ 1 minute 5 seconds
…should’ve guessed
Well good luck
Tell me when you give up
▪ 1 minutes 8 seconds
And try not to die
What country do you want to visit most?
▪ Italy
▪ How long has it been since we started this game?
Yoochun contemplates the question, tuning out the noisy banter of the bar a friend’s friend invited him to. The guy looks good enough and is obviously interested. Too bad Yoochun isn’t.
“What day is it today?” he asks out-of-the-blue, interrupting the young man’s lengthy narration of the last baseball game he went to see with his favorite uncle.
“Err… 27th… no, 28th November,” the guy answers once he processed the sudden change of subject, glancing at his watch, “it’s just past midnight.”
Yoochun smiles to himself, unconcerned by the questioning look on his companion’s face.
Three years :)
The realization that it’s been three years since that “thing” with 11 began soon starts weighing on Yoochun’s mind, nagging at him more insistently with every new message he gets. He still calls it a “thing”; it can hardly be defined as anything more specific - it’s more than a game and different from a friendship, and that ambiguity may be the reason why it has been lasting for so long.
Yoochun isn’t good at keeping in touch with people. Or rather, he doesn’t care much and he found out early that others soon get tired of one-sided friendships. As it is, three years is longer than the longest he ever kept a friend - Jaejoong excepted and that’s only because Jaejoong is the clingy sticks-to-you-like-glue-if-you-come-too-close kind of guy. Three years is also much longer than any relationship he had, by far - maybe even longer than all of them put together. And said relationships arguably meant even less to Yoochun than the short-lived friendships he formed.
In those three years, he texted 11 much, much more than his own brother. He told him stuff that’d have his mother do a double take and wonder if Yoochun is indeed her son. He told him stuff Jaejoong doesn’t know about, and that’s saying a lot since Jaejoong’s favorite pastime could be summed up as stalking Yoochun’s life.
In those three years he learnt every extraneous trivia there’s to know about 11, from his lucky number to his childhood dreams, the fact that he vowed undying love to chocolate (in all its shapes, however and wherever you’d find it), that he’s a morning person, doesn’t know how to swim, worships One Piece, likes winter, hates soccer, and throws in those damn ‘^^’ whenever he gets the chance - and that always has him wondering what 11’s smile could be like; the real thing.
Yoochun could easily write the Wikipedia page about him, but for the first four lines.
He doesn’t know his name.
He doesn’t know how old he is, what he looks like and where he lives - though countless hints lead him to believe that like him, it must be Seoul. He doesn’t know about his studies, family, friends, lovers and acquaintances; what his days are made of beyond the polished veneer of a few chosen words and a cell phone screen. Three years later, he forgot the sound of his voice.
It bothers him more and more. And more and more, he isn’t sure why he doesn’t dare.
Yoochun has come to look forward to every day because of a few text messages, and to attach more importance to snippets of a stranger’s life than to the big events happening in his own. It has long stopped being about random questions, and became all about finding roundabout ways to know.
▪ Do you like the sea or mountains better? ^^
It could be a random pick. It could be 11 arranging a trip with friends, or a girlfriend maybe. It could be 11 reminiscing past holidays. It could be 11 feeling listless or dreamy, and typing the first question that came to mind. It could be a dozen different reasons, and Yoochun is getting tired of guessing.
The sea.
He frowns.
Hesitates.
Sighs.
Threads a hand through long locks of dark hair, thinking absently that it’s time he cuts them and wondering why he feels so nervous. His fingers hover above the screen a moment more before Yoochun takes the plunge, types a few words and sends today’s question.
He leaves money on the table, greeting the owner as he leaves the restaurant - ‘restaurant’ being the gracious way to call it. It’s more of a survival ramyun shop for people like him who have no time to waste and even less money, but it’s homely and close to the convenient store where he currently works (just a part-time job, he insists, so that his parents won’t freak out, but the truth is that Yoochun likes selling Oreos and waterless hand cleaners more than planning sales strategies).
Can we meet?
11 doesn’t answer that day. He doesn’t answer the next one, and Yoochun anxiously battles the sneaking suspicion that he made a wrong move. When the third day comes, he starts considering eating his fingers since there are no nails left for him to gnaw on. Luckily 11 is good with timing and saves Yoochun’s left thumb from cannibalism.
▪ Ok.
This one cruelly lacks a cushioning ‘^^’, but sends Yoochun’s heart beating twice too fast all the same.
They quickly agree about the place and time. Yoochun pushes it a little since he’s scared 11 will reconsider and decide he doesn’t want to meet after all. He can tell the other is quite reluctant - no surprise here, clearly 11 was never part of the happy-go-lucky bunch of popular kids at school, and would probably pass off as a recluse on a good day - but now that he agreed, Yoochun can’t bear the idea of not seeing him. Hearing. Talking. Knowing.
The real thing.
Maybe 11 is a 28 years old otaku who wears the same dirty T-shirt all week and has crisps permanently ingrained at a corner of his mouth. Maybe he’s 18, a snooty pimply little genius with his nose in books all day long. Maybe he’s a 21 goth-look adept with mutant spiders tattooed on each arm and a couple pet rats. Maybe he’s 24, handsome, rich, and has nothing better to do than bring Yoochun along on trips to Cannes and Las Vegas.
Maybe.
Saturday, 3pm. Myeongdong station.
▪ How do I make sure it’s you?
▪ I mean, how do I recognize you?
Saturday, 3am. Yoochun has been lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for four hours straight, and he’s very glad to know it’s not just him feeling nervous.
I’ll have roses ready for you honey~ <3
▪ I’m serious…
In front of the hotel, on the left when you leave the subway station. I’ll wait there.
▪ Ok
▪ I can’t sleep
Yoochun rolls on his stomach, feet tangled in the heap of rumpled sheets at the bottom of the bed. He surrendered to the fact that he was now facing a sleepless night, the first in many years - ever since he could finally convince himself that yes, his parents would stay together, and yes, family drama was over. If anything, it says how much that encounter with 11 matters to him. Not that Yoochun will ever tell him.
Do you want me to call you?
▪ No
▪ I’ll try to sleep
▪ You should do the same
Alright, see you later :)
Yoochun counts till 100, waiting for a ‘^^’ that doesn’t come. He sighs heavily and plants his face into his pillow, aware that the next 12 hours will seem to him longer than the past three years.
Part 2.
Note: sooo I'm still alive, and here's a new story!~~ *claps*
Now I'm still not sure where it comes from exactly, the idea just kept bugging me and arranged itself on its own without my consent, and I don't know why but it somehow became YooMin. I'm not going to say too much about the whole background and purpose of this, I just hope there will be people curious enough to stick with it, since the bad news is that it's, well, SLOW (I mean it, and that's even by my standards which are pretty bad as far as slow can go).
The good news is that I've written it entirely already, and that this one won't join the sad graveyard of unfinished fics :)
I hope you enjoy it, feedback and comments are love!~
Pairings: YooMin bff (for now, and others to come)
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance, Fluff, slight Angst
Summary:
There is only one truth, Changmin believes, and only one question - is it the one you want?
There is only chance, Yoochun thinks - the meteor crashes, or it doesn’t. And if it does the only question is, will you run fast enough or let the stars collide?
Warning: this is painfully, agonizingly SLOW, and in many ways a characters study rather than a romance plot. This sort of story is not everyone's cup of tea and I suppose a warning is needed: here, you've been warned. I hope you'll enjoy anyway! ;-)
Part 1. Of questions and answers
Yoochun has a theory about life. He came up with it when he was nine - the day he was told one big stone from space blasted a once-cool world roamed by dinosaurs. He confirmed it three years later, rooted in front of his TV as the Titanic ran into the universe’s most famous iceberg. He got definite proof when he learnt that his dad met his mom because one evening he got on the wrong train.
You don’t decide of the important things - that’s Yoochun’s guideline in life.
The logical outcome was decreeing that working hard for what he wanted was just as efficient as waiting for it to come true. Sometimes Yoochun thinks he might be a tad lazy. Usually he congratulates himself on reaching the height of wisdom at such an early age.
But as the dinosaurs’ unfortunate fate should have taught him, the Universe doesn’t look kindly upon species set on not evolving, and one day someone up there decided that what Yoochun needed was a meteor of his own. The kind that sparks off a chain reaction, and looking back much, much later, that has you wondering at how you wouldn’t want things to be any other way.
Yoochun’s meteor hits him at 19, deviously shaped as a phone number.
At three in the morning, Yoochun forgot what they’re celebrating after who knows how many beers and soju bottles; no one bothers to keep count as long as they enjoy continued supply. There are seven of them crammed in Jungmoo’s tiny studio, talking and laughing loud, lost in a stuffy haze of smoke - your usual cigarettes plus some of that not quite legal stuff Myungbo gets from his cousin. Music, alcohol, worlds to reinvent before morning comes and reality crashes back down.
Yoochun is caught in a fierce debate about crap-you-must-do-before-turning-20 when Jungmoo gets an idea.
“Guuuys!!!” he bawls, waving his phone around and nearly taking Jaejoong’s eye out in the process. Then he dares them to call the number right before their own, following numerical order. He saw it on a TV show. It takes long minutes of tedious explanations before they all get the gist of it but then they’re wasted, and quickly agree the idea is brilliant.
They sit in a circle on the floor, wherever they find space, and Yoochun ends up wedged between Jaejoong and the fridge. Jungmoo solemnly asks for silence and dials a number amidst a concert of drunken ‘ssshhh’ and stifled laughs. Someone picks up after the fourth ring.
“Hello…?”
“It’s a guy!” Yongsik murmurs excitedly. Jaejoong looks about to put in his two cents and Yoochun quickly claps a hand over his mouth, wary of the shitty stuff Jaejoong blurts out when he’s drunk - though Jaejoong also blurts out shitty stuff when he isn’t drunk. Jaejoong blurts out shitty stuff all the time, but it doesn’t get on Yoochun’s nerves as badly when they are both sober.
“Who’s it?” they hear a sleepy voice ask.
“The President” Jungmoo answers loftily.
Yoochun bites down on Jaejoong’s arm to repress a giggle because that is incredibly funny. Jaejoong flings an arm out in an attempt to retaliate and bumps his head against the fridge instead.
“What?”
“President… you know…” and Jungmoo engages in a slurred version of the national anthem.
The guy hangs up with a mumbled “idiots” that no one hears amidst roars of laughter. Jungmoo stands up, a hand over the left side of his chest, holding a can up in the air - upside down, but it’s nearly empty and Yongsik doesn’t even notice the beer dribbling on top of his head - still singing, sending them all back into a fit of convulsive laughter. Yoochun manages to spot Myungbo’s face through his tears, darker than a red light and nearly as round. It looks like he stopped breathing and Yoochun wonders if you can really die of laughter. After that he isn’t too sure what happens, or in what order.
At some point Jaejoong talks to an old woman who calls him “pervert” when he calls her “honey”, so he calls her “pervert” in turn and she starts swearing copiously, with no result other than making Jaejoong howl “pervert” louder and louder until she hangs up with a huff. The guy that Yongsik calls skips preliminaries, going straight to an imaginative flow of insults that Yongsik punctuates with resigned hiccups. Someone threatens to call the cops. Then it’s Yoochun’s turn.
The others are utterly smashed at that point. Jungmoo is slumped on the floor with his ass sticking out, snoring blissfully. Myungbo is peering hopefully inside the rice-cooker in search of a surviving beer. Jaejoong keeps giggling and muttering “pervert”. The rest of them is equally useless, a mess of limbs and clothes with no clear identity.
Yoochun needs a few seconds to remember his own phone number - which ends with 12 - and a lot more to convince himself that 11 is indeed before 12. Right. He’s laughing to himself as he dials the number. He’ll say nothing. Just breathe loud like in horror movies, and if it’s a girl it’ll scare her to death. His victim picks up right after the third ring and Yoochun holds his breath, listening.
“It’s 4am.”
A guy, too bad. He doesn’t sound upset. He doesn’t even sound sleepy. Just his luck. Yoochun’s intoxicated mind scrambles for something to say and manages an inarticulate string of curses.
“…Who is it?”
Yoochun thinks hard, remembers his phone number, and decides he’ll be mysterious.
“I’m 12.”
“Are you sure?”
“…What?”
“You sound older than that.”
Yoochun doesn’t get it at once. Then it dawns on him and he giggles, pushing away Jaejoong who apparently decided to use him as his pillow for what remains of the night.
“No… no!! I’m 12! You’re 11.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Yeah… I- get off me Jae!”
“Who’s Jae?”
“My friend.”
“PERVERT!!!” Jaejoong yells in the phone and collapses back on Yoochun’s lap, laughing hysterically.
“Your friend is drunk too” the guy comments. Yoochun is delighted he understands so well.
“You’re interesting” he blurts out. He hears the guy laugh and straightens up, very proud of himself. On his right, Myungbo trips over nothing and plants his face into the orange lino, swearing profusely.
“Myungbo is drunk too” Yoochun babbles on, for some unknown reason feeling like he really needs to explain “but he… it’s cos of Jungmoo…”
“Why?”
“He got the idea” Yoochun starts giggling again. “He sang…”
He stops, frowning - why so many letters in ‘national anthem’. He sings it instead and the guy laughs, and says he’s interesting too. Yoochun decides he really likes him.
“I really like you” he declares solemnly. He remembers nothing after that.
When he wakes up the next day, disoriented and vaguely nauseous, Yoochun is only sure about two things: he has one heck of a headache, and Jaejoong might spill shitty stuff all the time but he’s exceptionally annoying when he has a hangover.
“Feels awful…”
“Mmh…”
“Yoochuuun...”
“…”
“Yoochuuuuuuun…!!”
“What?”
“I’m going to die.”
“No.”
“I’m going to die. I’m too young to die… I never went to Disneyland!!”
“You hate Mickey.”
“I hate mice. They’ve sneaky-sneaky eyes…”
“…”
“Yoochuuuuun…”
“…”
“Don’t ignore me!!”
Something sharp jabs painfully into his ribs and Yoochun cracks an eye open. He makes out black hair with rice cracker crumbs stuck in it, and what must be the tip of Jaejoong’s chin.
“You fell asleep on top of me” he groans, trying to push the other away.
“Better than the floor” Jaejoong mumbles, crushing his knee as he moves further on top of him to get more comfortable. It’d be cute if Jaejoong was a cuddly cat, but as it is Jaejoong is a 20 years old with pointy elbows and weighing much more than what his scrawny shape proclaims.
Yoochun is about to protest when Yongsik tells them to shut up. Yongsik is normally inoffensive but he experiences serious split personality problems when he’s a hangover. Yoochun deems it wiser not to say anything and he stays still and silent, staring lifelessly at the ceiling, until he hears his phone vibrate close. He gropes around until his fingers brush against something hard. He takes it and squints, wishing his eyes would be more willing to cooperate.
▪ You fell asleep ^^
No sender name, just a phone number. Yoochun frowns. His fingers aren’t cooperating either, the dead weight called Jaejoong isn’t helping, and it takes a while to answer.
Wh oare yu
▪ You don’t remember?
??
▪ I’m 11. That’s what you said.
11. Yoochun frowns harder, with the vague hope that it’ll help him grasp something right on the edge of his consciousness. As if on cue Jaejoong starts mumbling in his sleep. ‘Pervert’ - it sounds like. Yoochun suddenly remembers and immediately wishes he hadn’t. His phone vibrates again.
▪ I take it that you remember now…
In other circumstances, Yoochun would’ve found a smart answer. Right now though, his mind is blank as a cotton field, his head hurts like a dozen drunk elephants are holding a wild samba contest in there, and aspirin and good comeback lines are nowhere in sight.
Akghkgzlef
Yoochun presses ‘send’, swearing to himself he’ll never drink that much again.
That’s how it starts.
11 doesn’t tell him his name, Yoochun doesn’t say his either. After another short exchange of random texts (with a lot of teasing on one part and many akjhkhrd on the other), they find that something clicks, somehow. Years later, Yoochun will sum it up as “we were just both weirdoes, you know what they say about feathers flying in flocks” and a familiar voice will shoot back “don’t use expressions you don’t understand” followed by a stern but tad indignant “and I am not a weirdo”.
A week after the first messages, Yoochun is the one who suggests that they send each other one question per day. Texting 11 is fun and he’d like it to continue for a bit, whatever the pretext. We’ve to answer the truth, he adds. 11 readily agrees, only asking that those questions will have nothing to do with their identity. Sure, Yoochun answers - after all 11 could be a psychopath on a rampage, and he’s not too sure he could be defined as “sane” himself - and immediately gets a new message.
▪ What are you most afraid of?
Yoochun hesitates. The truth, they said. Who cares anyway?
Ghosts.
What’s the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?
▪ Crossing the road without looking
Yoochun barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling happily. Then he looks up and curses out loud when he realizes he’s missed his stop. He rushes out of the bus, oblivious of the looks people are shooting at him and at his purple hair - a stupid lost bet, but the stupider the bet, the more seriously Yoochun takes it.
What do you hate most?
▪ Cockroaches
▪ It’s 2AM, why aren’t you sleeping?
Had a nightmare
▪ What’s your favorite color?
Boring
▪ Just answer
Blue
What do you want to do right now?
▪ Eat ^^
Should have guessed…
What do you call an elephant that flies?
▪ A Dumbo jet
▪ And that’s a really lame joke
It’s Jae’s favorite :P
▪ How long have you known Jae?
5 years
It’s the first hour of the first class of the first day back to university after the holidays break, and Yoochun is bored out of his mind - half-collapsed on his desk, chin resting on his crossed arms, watching around dully as everyone else dutifully take notes down. All good students they are, he thinks sullenly… rule-abiding, do-gooders, fitting snuggly within society’s narrow standards. Not that Yoochun is going down the path of delinquency, but he at least tries not to play the sheep part.
He wonders why he even bothered with the giant farce university is proving to be.
Heck, he’d like to know why he’s studying business marketing when his dream job has been journalism all along - then he remembers it was that or bury himself in the happy world of insurances. Car insurances. Health insurances. Life insurances. All sunny perspectives. Yoochun loves his dad, but he’d rather not follow his steps and spend his life dealing with the problems normal people just don’t want to deal with.
He takes his phone out and starts typing a message, ignoring the scornful looks he’s getting from the guy on his left - the one who thinks the world is a cruel jungle where people eat each other and you’ve got to strike them dumb before they attempt anything cos they all think of nothing but personally making your life hell from the moment they say ‘hi’. Yoochun thinks said guy probably has lots of problems at home and a few more in his head.
Do you sometimes feel like you’re living the wrong life?
Yoochun stares at his text and scowls, annoyed at himself. He erases it before sending another one. Then he flashes a smirk at his neighbor just for the sake of seeing him fidget on his chair and stare warily, maybe assessing the probability of Yoochun hiding an ax under his desk.
What do you do when you’re bored?
▪ I’m never bored
You’re no fun…
▪ I see something red, what is it?
Yoochun beams. He spends the next thirty minutes furiously typing on his phone trying to guess the answer - not 11’s socks, not his bag, not a goldfish, not ketchup, not something alive, not something you can eat, not something sticky, not a pimple, not a Santa hat, not something that smells… It continues after class, on his way back home, during dinner and in his bed. He surrenders at 11pm.
You won
▪ Really?
Yeah.
▪ It’s a bit disappointing
Don’t push it
▪ ^^
Come on, what was it?
It turns out to be the color of Thailand on the world map in 11’s classroom today.
… I’m going to kill you
▪ You asked for it
I’m going to kill you anyway
Round 2 tomorrow. You’ll regret this.
▪ As you say
▪ Good night ^^
Good night :)
▪ What’s the time of the year you hate most?
October 24th. Do you have a driving license?
▪ No
▪ Why October 24th?
It’s the day my parents told me they wanted to get a divorce.
If I asked you to choose one letter in the alphabet?
▪ A
▪ So did your parents get divorced?
No. Can you do a handstand?
▪ Yes, if there’s someone to hold my legs up
That’s a ‘no’ then
▪ But before I could do cartwheels ^^
Fascinating
▪ On one hand!
Yoochun rolls on his back on the bed, smiling amusedly. 11 rarely keeps their convos going once the questions have been sent and answered (and on any other day he’d have ended it at ‘yes’), unless he feels bad about something. Apologies of sorts. For having insisted.
Yoochun throws his brother a helpless look that goes entirely ignored as Yoowhan pretends to be absorbed in playing games on his phone. Yoochun scowls and concentrates. If he tries hard enough, maybe he can teleport himself somewhere else.
Family reunion this afternoon - the utterly pointless sort. Yoochun is confident their parents don’t need help to make the perfect choice for the living room’s new wall paint color.
“I thought Tumbleweed would be good but your father-”
“However you call it, it’s pink.”
“Or Havana Cream…”
“That’s pink as well!”
“Fine. Maybe you could stop being a jerk and propose something! You only-”
“I told you that yellow-“
“You won’t put Canary all over my living room.”
“It’s mine too!”
“Yoochun, Yoowhan, say something!”
Yoowhan sinks deeper into the couch and mumbles unintelligibly. So much for solidarity between siblings - have Yoochun’s lengthy teachings about unbreakable brotherly bonds left such a fugitive impression? Yoochun kicks him in the shin and quickly grabs his phone.
EMERGENCY!! Yellow or pink?!
▪ Neither
Come on!!
▪ Beige ^^
“Yoochun??”
He looks up and meets both his parents’ expectant faces.
“Beige” Yoochun says brightly. His father looks at his mother, his mother looks at his father, and he sighs in relief as both seem to actually like the idea. How lame.
You’re a life savior <3
▪ Something you’d like to do someday but never told anyone before? ^^
Here he goes, Yoochun thinks, smiling to himself. Pushing it, but he rather likes it when 11 dares.
Get a tattoo
The first thing you do in the morning?
▪ Open my eyes ^^
Smart…
▪ Look right in front of you, what do you see?
The street, through my window
It’s raining
There’s a dog
A wet dog, since it’s raining
Probably stinks
Or maybe not… I don’t know if it’s true wet dogs stink
I’m allergic to dogs so I can’t go and check
▪ Stop spamming
:P
<3
▪ Idiot
<3
▪ Stop it
<3
▪ Have you ever dreamt you were flying?
No
Have you?
▪ Once
…last night, I suppose
▪ ^^
▪ What do you do when you’re sad?
This one makes Yoochun stop in the middle of street, although he’s already late and every second increases the probability of Jae trying to behead him once he finally reaches the mall.
I go out with my friends.
After that he hesitates, not sure about the best way to probe. Yoochun settles for something simple, hoping 11 will catch on.
Say the 1st word that comes to your mind?
▪ Lonely
And this one tugs at his heart.
Ever been abroad?
▪ Yes. What’s your favorite book?
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
▪ Interesting.
I love it ok, no need to make fun of it
▪ I said it was interesting, not that it was funny.
▪ And I like it too
Let me guess
It has to do with all that chocolate
▪ Can’t hide anything from you ^^
▪ Are you afraid of thunderstorms?
Yoochun looks out the window in time to see lightning rip the dark sky open, the blinding flash of light immediately followed by a low rumble that momentarily covers the sound of pouring rain.
No. Where are you now?
▪ On my way home
Tell me when you get there
▪ ^^
▪ What’s the best Christmas present you ever had?
My first bike.
What’s the worst Christmas present you ever had?
▪ A saltshaker
▪ Please don’t ask
Tomorrow :P
▪ =_=
Merry Christmas!!
▪ Merry Christmas ^^
Two weeks before his 22nd birthday, Yoochun gets in a fight with his boyfriend. It’s nothing serious - just something about how Yoochun might have stared a little too long at some guy in second year and how he might have smiled to him afterwards. But they fight for the sake of it, shout indignant reproaches at each other’s face, then Yoochun storms out of the small store they’re in.
He doesn’t see the car coming too fast on his left. All goes black in a split second, before he even gets to realize it hurts.
He stays unconscious for two days and wakes up on the third, much to the relief of his family and of a teary Jaejoong - who bypasses all conventional comments about how worried he was and how awful Yoochun looks to announce happily that he scared his now ex-boyfriend away with threats of denouncing him to the police for unpremeditated murder attempt.
It’s another two days before Yoochun remembers and asks for his phone. There are a dozen missed calls and more messages than he can count but he’s only interested in a few.
▪ Do you like sunset or sunrise better? - he reads on the first.
▪ Are you ok? - on the second.
▪ Are you ok?
▪ Are you ok?
▪ Are you ok?
It’s surely the medicine and weariness that make Yoochun want to cry, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s now single, unless it’s because the sun is shining really hard outside. Of course that idiot would stick to the ‘one question per day’ rule.
I’m sorry, something happened but it’s fine now
The answer comes in a heartbeat.
▪ Are you ok?
I’m fine
Yoochun doesn’t deem it necessary to talk about a couple broken ribs and his right leg in a cast, and of course the fact that he’s now single.
You were worried?
And so that day’s question is a pointless one with an obvious answer, but for some reason Yoochun wants to see it written. Tangible. Right in front of his eyes.
▪ Yes.
▪ Don’t do that again, please.
This one leaves a warm print on his heart.
▪ Something you’re proud of?
I can hold my breath for more than 2 minutes
What are you doing right now?
▪ Holding my breath
▪ …
51 seconds. Nice try :P
▪ Whatever
▪ You’re so weird
You’re so jealous
▪ I’m not
You hate losing
▪ That’s a silly game. I don’t care.
You’re jeaaalous
▪ I tell you I don’t care
Jealous
▪ Whatever
J
E
A
▪ How childish can you get?
L
O
U
S
▪ Seriously
:))))
▪ Don’t you have someone else to annoy?
They aren’t half as funny as you
Hey?
Don’t be mad
▪ 1 minute 5 seconds
…should’ve guessed
Well good luck
Tell me when you give up
▪ 1 minutes 8 seconds
And try not to die
What country do you want to visit most?
▪ Italy
▪ How long has it been since we started this game?
Yoochun contemplates the question, tuning out the noisy banter of the bar a friend’s friend invited him to. The guy looks good enough and is obviously interested. Too bad Yoochun isn’t.
“What day is it today?” he asks out-of-the-blue, interrupting the young man’s lengthy narration of the last baseball game he went to see with his favorite uncle.
“Err… 27th… no, 28th November,” the guy answers once he processed the sudden change of subject, glancing at his watch, “it’s just past midnight.”
Yoochun smiles to himself, unconcerned by the questioning look on his companion’s face.
Three years :)
The realization that it’s been three years since that “thing” with 11 began soon starts weighing on Yoochun’s mind, nagging at him more insistently with every new message he gets. He still calls it a “thing”; it can hardly be defined as anything more specific - it’s more than a game and different from a friendship, and that ambiguity may be the reason why it has been lasting for so long.
Yoochun isn’t good at keeping in touch with people. Or rather, he doesn’t care much and he found out early that others soon get tired of one-sided friendships. As it is, three years is longer than the longest he ever kept a friend - Jaejoong excepted and that’s only because Jaejoong is the clingy sticks-to-you-like-glue-if-you-come-too-close kind of guy. Three years is also much longer than any relationship he had, by far - maybe even longer than all of them put together. And said relationships arguably meant even less to Yoochun than the short-lived friendships he formed.
In those three years, he texted 11 much, much more than his own brother. He told him stuff that’d have his mother do a double take and wonder if Yoochun is indeed her son. He told him stuff Jaejoong doesn’t know about, and that’s saying a lot since Jaejoong’s favorite pastime could be summed up as stalking Yoochun’s life.
In those three years he learnt every extraneous trivia there’s to know about 11, from his lucky number to his childhood dreams, the fact that he vowed undying love to chocolate (in all its shapes, however and wherever you’d find it), that he’s a morning person, doesn’t know how to swim, worships One Piece, likes winter, hates soccer, and throws in those damn ‘^^’ whenever he gets the chance - and that always has him wondering what 11’s smile could be like; the real thing.
Yoochun could easily write the Wikipedia page about him, but for the first four lines.
He doesn’t know his name.
He doesn’t know how old he is, what he looks like and where he lives - though countless hints lead him to believe that like him, it must be Seoul. He doesn’t know about his studies, family, friends, lovers and acquaintances; what his days are made of beyond the polished veneer of a few chosen words and a cell phone screen. Three years later, he forgot the sound of his voice.
It bothers him more and more. And more and more, he isn’t sure why he doesn’t dare.
Yoochun has come to look forward to every day because of a few text messages, and to attach more importance to snippets of a stranger’s life than to the big events happening in his own. It has long stopped being about random questions, and became all about finding roundabout ways to know.
▪ Do you like the sea or mountains better? ^^
It could be a random pick. It could be 11 arranging a trip with friends, or a girlfriend maybe. It could be 11 reminiscing past holidays. It could be 11 feeling listless or dreamy, and typing the first question that came to mind. It could be a dozen different reasons, and Yoochun is getting tired of guessing.
The sea.
He frowns.
Hesitates.
Sighs.
Threads a hand through long locks of dark hair, thinking absently that it’s time he cuts them and wondering why he feels so nervous. His fingers hover above the screen a moment more before Yoochun takes the plunge, types a few words and sends today’s question.
He leaves money on the table, greeting the owner as he leaves the restaurant - ‘restaurant’ being the gracious way to call it. It’s more of a survival ramyun shop for people like him who have no time to waste and even less money, but it’s homely and close to the convenient store where he currently works (just a part-time job, he insists, so that his parents won’t freak out, but the truth is that Yoochun likes selling Oreos and waterless hand cleaners more than planning sales strategies).
Can we meet?
11 doesn’t answer that day. He doesn’t answer the next one, and Yoochun anxiously battles the sneaking suspicion that he made a wrong move. When the third day comes, he starts considering eating his fingers since there are no nails left for him to gnaw on. Luckily 11 is good with timing and saves Yoochun’s left thumb from cannibalism.
▪ Ok.
This one cruelly lacks a cushioning ‘^^’, but sends Yoochun’s heart beating twice too fast all the same.
They quickly agree about the place and time. Yoochun pushes it a little since he’s scared 11 will reconsider and decide he doesn’t want to meet after all. He can tell the other is quite reluctant - no surprise here, clearly 11 was never part of the happy-go-lucky bunch of popular kids at school, and would probably pass off as a recluse on a good day - but now that he agreed, Yoochun can’t bear the idea of not seeing him. Hearing. Talking. Knowing.
The real thing.
Maybe 11 is a 28 years old otaku who wears the same dirty T-shirt all week and has crisps permanently ingrained at a corner of his mouth. Maybe he’s 18, a snooty pimply little genius with his nose in books all day long. Maybe he’s a 21 goth-look adept with mutant spiders tattooed on each arm and a couple pet rats. Maybe he’s 24, handsome, rich, and has nothing better to do than bring Yoochun along on trips to Cannes and Las Vegas.
Maybe.
Saturday, 3pm. Myeongdong station.
▪ How do I make sure it’s you?
▪ I mean, how do I recognize you?
Saturday, 3am. Yoochun has been lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for four hours straight, and he’s very glad to know it’s not just him feeling nervous.
I’ll have roses ready for you honey~ <3
▪ I’m serious…
In front of the hotel, on the left when you leave the subway station. I’ll wait there.
▪ Ok
▪ I can’t sleep
Yoochun rolls on his stomach, feet tangled in the heap of rumpled sheets at the bottom of the bed. He surrendered to the fact that he was now facing a sleepless night, the first in many years - ever since he could finally convince himself that yes, his parents would stay together, and yes, family drama was over. If anything, it says how much that encounter with 11 matters to him. Not that Yoochun will ever tell him.
Do you want me to call you?
▪ No
▪ I’ll try to sleep
▪ You should do the same
Alright, see you later :)
Yoochun counts till 100, waiting for a ‘^^’ that doesn’t come. He sighs heavily and plants his face into his pillow, aware that the next 12 hours will seem to him longer than the past three years.
Part 2.
Note: sooo I'm still alive, and here's a new story!~~ *claps*
Now I'm still not sure where it comes from exactly, the idea just kept bugging me and arranged itself on its own without my consent, and I don't know why but it somehow became YooMin. I'm not going to say too much about the whole background and purpose of this, I just hope there will be people curious enough to stick with it, since the bad news is that it's, well, SLOW (I mean it, and that's even by my standards which are pretty bad as far as slow can go).
The good news is that I've written it entirely already, and that this one won't join the sad graveyard of unfinished fics :)
I hope you enjoy it, feedback and comments are love!~