YunJae - Battlefield
Title: Battlefield
Word count: 1,632 words
Pairing: Yunjae
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluffy angst/angsty fluff, mentions of the lawsuit, first time writing in first-person? I hope I didn't kill their characterizations.
Summary: Why does love have to be a battlefield?
Disclaimer: DBSK do not belong to me.
Notes: Writing is my coping mechanism to the current events. T____T
Battered. Bruised. Broken. Our souls torn into two. Our hearts shattered into a million pieces. It’s too late to step back, yet we’re still hesitant to move forward. Stuck in the middle of a crossroad where each in direction we’ll face only more battles ahead with our smiles and memories being the innocent casualties of this endless war. Is this truly the price of fighting for our dreams? Is it really too naïve to believe we can reach for the stars without having our bodies crushed from the subsequent fall?
One word turns into a war
Why is it the smallest things that tear us down?
You’re sitting across from me, on the other side of the conference table. We’re separated by mere meters of the table, but we both know it only conceals the fathomless abyss between our hearts. The stifling air suffocates me. We both know that underneath the surface of formalities and greetings likes the ugly truth - in their eyes, we’re nothing but faceless commodities to be bought by the highest bidder. Your expression is schooled into a mask of cool indifference - you’re truly the Ice Prince now, the cold shards of your features freezing my heart like a blizzard. I am willing to move heaven and earth with my bare hands if only I can replace your mask of apathy with the smiles you’d always love to wear. To see you covering them with your hands or otherwise, the entire world would stop, pausing in its rotation to be entranced by your beauty. I sit with my hands tightly clasped on my lap, resisting the urge to touch you that’s as natural as breathing. It’s something neither of us can afford now where each word or gesture can be used as weapons against us. And so I match your mask of indifference with my own. After all, a warrior can never show its weakness in front of its foes, right? And you’re always my weakness.
Both hands, tied behind my back with nothing
Oh no, these times when we climb so fast to fall again
Why we gotta fall for it now
You’re sitting across from me, on the other side of the conference table. To anyone else, you wear an expression fit for a leader, a general preparing for battle - seeing everything, observing everything, yet revealing nothing. Yet I can still see the crease dotting the space between your brows, a frown dancing on your cupid-bow lips, tense shoulders already stacked with too many burdens. Do you know how much it breaks my heart to know that I may be the cause of your pain? Do you know how much I want to kiss away your frown, shoulder your burdens? But such actions are forbidden now - the battlegrounds have no place for tenderness after all. And so I filter away all emotions from my expression until all that reminds is apathy. You’d always say I wear my feelings on my expressions but after months of practice I learned to perfect this poker face that’s second nature to you. But I can never truly be like you - because while your eyes see everything, my eyes only see you.
We used to fight side by side, but now are we fighting on opposite sides? Are we now living under different roofs, walking separate paths, and dreaming different dreams? Are hope and faith merely more casualties of this war, buried underneath the rubble of forgotten memories?
I never meant to start a war
You know I never wanna hurt you
Don't even know what we're fighting for
The meeting is over, our fate determined by profit margins, company shares, and other meaningless things that cannot not define who we are. I watch as you turn your back, walking away without a second glance. I reach out, wanting to touch you, but my hands falter in mid-air. Do I still have permission to touch you? Or will you shrug my hands off, your body tensing under my fingers as you give me a smile, a curve of your lips reserved for mere acquaintances? For strangers. Maybe, maybe in the end, I’m just a coward. After all, I’m only a man without a heart now. Too afraid to move forward, I stand where I am and helplessly watch as you walk farther away from me.
It’s déjà vu again isn’t it? Is this distance temporary, asymptotic in a way that will bring you back to me in the end? Or will it only grow until even almost a decade of memories will be unable to bridge the gap between us? I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I’m too scared to find out.
“Jaejoong.” I finally step forward.
Can't swallow our pride
Neither of us wanna raise that flag
If we can't surrender then we both gonna lose what we had
“Jaejoong.” Your voice hangs in the air of this cold room, where relationships are created and broken efficiently as artificial ink on paper. I turn around.
“How are Junsu and Yoochun?” You ask.
“Fine.” I answer. “How is Changmin?”
“He’s fine.” You answer.
Silence. The only sound is the whirl of the air conditioner in the cold room.
“You need to take care of yourself, Yunho,” I say. ‘How is your stomach now?’, ‘Are you eating enough?’, ‘Are you getting enough sleep?’ So many questions I want to ask, but I am afraid I no longer have the right to do so. And so I don’t say anything.
“Thanks.” I hear you shuffling past me, your shoes clicking against the floor. You turn back to look at me. I can no longer read the emotions in your eyes. So is this how it is now? Even a simple ‘how are you’ must be asked with shields over our hearts?
“Take care of yourself, Jaejoong.”
You walk away, and I stand watching the smooth outlines of your back. It’s nothing new to me. In front of the camera, you walk in front as the leader of the group, and I follow, glancing back to make sure our dongsengs are close behind. Beyond the eyes of the camera, I’d wrap my arms around your waist from behind, resting my head against your shoulder with whispers of, ‘Welcome home’, ‘How was dance practice?’, or ‘What did manager-hyung say?’.
But this time it’s different. Watching the outlines of your back becoming smaller and smaller until they converge into nothingness, I’m afraid that this time, you’ll walk so far away I will not be able to follow. That this time, if I try to wrap my arms around you, I’ll only embrace air. I can’t let that happen. I was selfish then because I want to fight for what we deserve, and I’m selfish now because I don’t want to let you go.
I finally step forward. Gingerly, hesitantly, this time it’s my fingers that tug at your bag, returning the favor.
“Don’t leave.”
Why does love always feel like a battlefield?
“Don’t leave.” Words are nothing but mere mechanical vibrations of air molecules. They can be uttered by anyone, heard by anyone, but in your eyes, I hear what you say only to me, heard only by me. Stay.
I reach my hands out, my fingers brushing against your face. You don’t move away. I replace my hands with my lips, kissing the path traveled by a thousand teardrops down your cheek.
Like long-time dance partners, we shift, and I’m behind you again, arms around you, resting my chin on your shoulder. It’s funny how they always think I’m the protector whenever we’re like this, but they don’t see that just as you’re being held by me, I’m holding onto you. That you’re my anchor making sure I stay upright and won’t crumble into thousand pieces like a shelter without a foundation to stand on. While you’re leaning back on me, I’m leaning forward on you until we reach static equilibrium, two forces balancing each other, a phenomenon created by nature and perfected by what can only be called love.
In the morning we'll wake up and we'll be alright
'Cause baby, we don't have to fight
And I don't want this love to feel like a battlefield
We’re so close now, bridging the distance between us until it’s only heartbeat against heartbeat. I feel your breath against my ear as you whisper, “I missed you, hyung,” a rare acknowledgment of our age difference, and I see the mask slipping away from your handsome features, revealing your vulnerability and helplessness. People see you as the invincible leader, immune to venomous words and poisonous rumors, but when I feel your pulse against my skin, I know you’re only human. And so I turn around and my fingers find your body, caressing the contours of skin inscribed into my mind. The angle of your jawline, the slope of your back, the planes of your chest…I’ve got these memorized into every synapse of my body, burned so deep into my being that even in death I’ll remember. I write the symphony of my longing with my lips against yours.
Whether we’re TVXQ or Tohoshinki, whether we’re truly Gods of the East reigning over heaven or outcasts banished down to earth, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because no matter what, you’re still our leader. My leader. Since day one you’ve gotten me blinded, Yunho-yah, but that’s okay. I’ll never be lost. Not when you’re the only person I will follow to the ends of the earth.
Because in the end, we will still fight. Even if victory is Pyrrhic, even if defeat is imminent, we shall run headfirst into gunfire and swordpoints hand-in-hand. Because even if we go down in flames, my hand would never leave yours.
DBSK hwaiting. YunJae hwaiting.
Word count: 1,632 words
Pairing: Yunjae
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluffy angst/angsty fluff, mentions of the lawsuit, first time writing in first-person? I hope I didn't kill their characterizations.
Summary: Why does love have to be a battlefield?
Disclaimer: DBSK do not belong to me.
Notes: Writing is my coping mechanism to the current events. T____T
Battered. Bruised. Broken. Our souls torn into two. Our hearts shattered into a million pieces. It’s too late to step back, yet we’re still hesitant to move forward. Stuck in the middle of a crossroad where each in direction we’ll face only more battles ahead with our smiles and memories being the innocent casualties of this endless war. Is this truly the price of fighting for our dreams? Is it really too naïve to believe we can reach for the stars without having our bodies crushed from the subsequent fall?
One word turns into a war
Why is it the smallest things that tear us down?
You’re sitting across from me, on the other side of the conference table. We’re separated by mere meters of the table, but we both know it only conceals the fathomless abyss between our hearts. The stifling air suffocates me. We both know that underneath the surface of formalities and greetings likes the ugly truth - in their eyes, we’re nothing but faceless commodities to be bought by the highest bidder. Your expression is schooled into a mask of cool indifference - you’re truly the Ice Prince now, the cold shards of your features freezing my heart like a blizzard. I am willing to move heaven and earth with my bare hands if only I can replace your mask of apathy with the smiles you’d always love to wear. To see you covering them with your hands or otherwise, the entire world would stop, pausing in its rotation to be entranced by your beauty. I sit with my hands tightly clasped on my lap, resisting the urge to touch you that’s as natural as breathing. It’s something neither of us can afford now where each word or gesture can be used as weapons against us. And so I match your mask of indifference with my own. After all, a warrior can never show its weakness in front of its foes, right? And you’re always my weakness.
Both hands, tied behind my back with nothing
Oh no, these times when we climb so fast to fall again
Why we gotta fall for it now
You’re sitting across from me, on the other side of the conference table. To anyone else, you wear an expression fit for a leader, a general preparing for battle - seeing everything, observing everything, yet revealing nothing. Yet I can still see the crease dotting the space between your brows, a frown dancing on your cupid-bow lips, tense shoulders already stacked with too many burdens. Do you know how much it breaks my heart to know that I may be the cause of your pain? Do you know how much I want to kiss away your frown, shoulder your burdens? But such actions are forbidden now - the battlegrounds have no place for tenderness after all. And so I filter away all emotions from my expression until all that reminds is apathy. You’d always say I wear my feelings on my expressions but after months of practice I learned to perfect this poker face that’s second nature to you. But I can never truly be like you - because while your eyes see everything, my eyes only see you.
We used to fight side by side, but now are we fighting on opposite sides? Are we now living under different roofs, walking separate paths, and dreaming different dreams? Are hope and faith merely more casualties of this war, buried underneath the rubble of forgotten memories?
I never meant to start a war
You know I never wanna hurt you
Don't even know what we're fighting for
The meeting is over, our fate determined by profit margins, company shares, and other meaningless things that cannot not define who we are. I watch as you turn your back, walking away without a second glance. I reach out, wanting to touch you, but my hands falter in mid-air. Do I still have permission to touch you? Or will you shrug my hands off, your body tensing under my fingers as you give me a smile, a curve of your lips reserved for mere acquaintances? For strangers. Maybe, maybe in the end, I’m just a coward. After all, I’m only a man without a heart now. Too afraid to move forward, I stand where I am and helplessly watch as you walk farther away from me.
It’s déjà vu again isn’t it? Is this distance temporary, asymptotic in a way that will bring you back to me in the end? Or will it only grow until even almost a decade of memories will be unable to bridge the gap between us? I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I’m too scared to find out.
“Jaejoong.” I finally step forward.
Can't swallow our pride
Neither of us wanna raise that flag
If we can't surrender then we both gonna lose what we had
“Jaejoong.” Your voice hangs in the air of this cold room, where relationships are created and broken efficiently as artificial ink on paper. I turn around.
“How are Junsu and Yoochun?” You ask.
“Fine.” I answer. “How is Changmin?”
“He’s fine.” You answer.
Silence. The only sound is the whirl of the air conditioner in the cold room.
“You need to take care of yourself, Yunho,” I say. ‘How is your stomach now?’, ‘Are you eating enough?’, ‘Are you getting enough sleep?’ So many questions I want to ask, but I am afraid I no longer have the right to do so. And so I don’t say anything.
“Thanks.” I hear you shuffling past me, your shoes clicking against the floor. You turn back to look at me. I can no longer read the emotions in your eyes. So is this how it is now? Even a simple ‘how are you’ must be asked with shields over our hearts?
“Take care of yourself, Jaejoong.”
You walk away, and I stand watching the smooth outlines of your back. It’s nothing new to me. In front of the camera, you walk in front as the leader of the group, and I follow, glancing back to make sure our dongsengs are close behind. Beyond the eyes of the camera, I’d wrap my arms around your waist from behind, resting my head against your shoulder with whispers of, ‘Welcome home’, ‘How was dance practice?’, or ‘What did manager-hyung say?’.
But this time it’s different. Watching the outlines of your back becoming smaller and smaller until they converge into nothingness, I’m afraid that this time, you’ll walk so far away I will not be able to follow. That this time, if I try to wrap my arms around you, I’ll only embrace air. I can’t let that happen. I was selfish then because I want to fight for what we deserve, and I’m selfish now because I don’t want to let you go.
I finally step forward. Gingerly, hesitantly, this time it’s my fingers that tug at your bag, returning the favor.
“Don’t leave.”
Why does love always feel like a battlefield?
“Don’t leave.” Words are nothing but mere mechanical vibrations of air molecules. They can be uttered by anyone, heard by anyone, but in your eyes, I hear what you say only to me, heard only by me. Stay.
I reach my hands out, my fingers brushing against your face. You don’t move away. I replace my hands with my lips, kissing the path traveled by a thousand teardrops down your cheek.
Like long-time dance partners, we shift, and I’m behind you again, arms around you, resting my chin on your shoulder. It’s funny how they always think I’m the protector whenever we’re like this, but they don’t see that just as you’re being held by me, I’m holding onto you. That you’re my anchor making sure I stay upright and won’t crumble into thousand pieces like a shelter without a foundation to stand on. While you’re leaning back on me, I’m leaning forward on you until we reach static equilibrium, two forces balancing each other, a phenomenon created by nature and perfected by what can only be called love.
In the morning we'll wake up and we'll be alright
'Cause baby, we don't have to fight
And I don't want this love to feel like a battlefield
We’re so close now, bridging the distance between us until it’s only heartbeat against heartbeat. I feel your breath against my ear as you whisper, “I missed you, hyung,” a rare acknowledgment of our age difference, and I see the mask slipping away from your handsome features, revealing your vulnerability and helplessness. People see you as the invincible leader, immune to venomous words and poisonous rumors, but when I feel your pulse against my skin, I know you’re only human. And so I turn around and my fingers find your body, caressing the contours of skin inscribed into my mind. The angle of your jawline, the slope of your back, the planes of your chest…I’ve got these memorized into every synapse of my body, burned so deep into my being that even in death I’ll remember. I write the symphony of my longing with my lips against yours.
Whether we’re TVXQ or Tohoshinki, whether we’re truly Gods of the East reigning over heaven or outcasts banished down to earth, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because no matter what, you’re still our leader. My leader. Since day one you’ve gotten me blinded, Yunho-yah, but that’s okay. I’ll never be lost. Not when you’re the only person I will follow to the ends of the earth.
Because in the end, we will still fight. Even if victory is Pyrrhic, even if defeat is imminent, we shall run headfirst into gunfire and swordpoints hand-in-hand. Because even if we go down in flames, my hand would never leave yours.
DBSK hwaiting. YunJae hwaiting.