[fic] Between Saturn and the Moon (Jaemin, Jaeho)
Hello, all! Just thought I'd delurk and say hi and give y'all a delurking gift of DBSK!fic. Hopefully you'll enjoy it! (:
P.S. I totally kept typing "Jaehoo" for some reason. Like...mm-mm chocolatey goodness??
Between Saturn and the Moon
by naisumi
Pairings: Jaemin, Jaeho, peripheral Yoosu
Warnings: m/m slash pairing, bit o' angst
Please let me know if there are any cultural inaccuracies :X I'm not Korean, so mostly there has just been a lot of Wikipedia. Also, this so did not turn out the way I thought it would. I was like "Yay! Happy! Jaemin!" and Jaejoong and Changmin were like "What is this, Leave it to Beaver?"
Hmm...I just made them all live in that ridiculous apartment XD Where all five of them sleep in a room. And the timeframe is after their current tour. Deals with the DUI thing, etc.
All feedback appreciated! I don't have a beta, so :X Hopefully there's nothing glaringly wrong. I think there may be some tense issues >.> anyway, enjoy!
Between Saturn and the Moon
--
What it all boils down to is this: Changmin hadn't liked Jaejoong at all when they first met, not even a little. Had it been the way he talked or the things he said? Or maybe the way he laughed or the way he wore his clothes, wore his hair, wore long earrings?
"Yunho says it makes my neck look long," Jaejoong had said and laughed a little. Yunho had been the crutch back then, the fast friend. He still was, and maybe he always would be.
"I don't really like earrings," Changmin had said, and moved away with a polite smile. He'd moved like slow, slow water.
Jaejoong hadn't watched him go, and now he wonders why. He wonders because it's dark out, and it's been too often that he hasn't seen Changmin come home, and too often that Changmin has eaten a quick breakfast with his hands and disappeared into the sun. He wonders, too, because it's a sticky summer and he knows Changmin likes girls with lemon juice in their hair. If he put lemon juice on, would Changmin lick it off? Laugh and say he likes dark hair and dark eyes just fine?
Jaejoong doesn't think so.
--
Their first real conversation had been about the Beehive Cluster. They'd talked about the moon rising over Haleakala, in Maui, in May. They'd talked about looking west.
"What about the Aquarid meteors," Changmin had said. He'd been wearing something plain; a t-shirt, jeans, no socks or shoes. "Falling stars. From the earth, we can only see three thousand stars, three thousand and the falling ones."
"They tell you that in class?" Jaejoong had asked. "Maybe I was just a bad student. The closest I got to the speed of light was a mole."
Changmin had shrugged. "I read it somewhere. My mother's got a telescope, a dobsonian."
"Extracurricular," Jaejoong had said. "I see what Junsu meant when he said you were impressive."
Admiring Changmin had been the wrong thing to do. He'd closed his mouth and looked up at the sky, silent. Jaejoong had tried to see if he'd been blushing. He hadn't been.
They'd stood in the backyard like that, quiet, until Changmin had softly said good night. Jaejoong had heard him close the sliding door carefully behind him. He'd been tired too, but he hadn't wanted to go inside yet. He'd looked around for a long time, looked at patches of streetlight through the trees. He'd listened to the sound of dogs in the distance, echoing their need for food and play, the kind that crashed through the park and skidded around gutters. He'd wanted some cold tea, so badly that his mouth watered under his tongue, but the kitchen had been dark. He'd gone to bed instead.
--
Yoochun comes in the middle of a commercial break. He's wearing low jeans and the long sleeveless tank that Junsu spilled spaghetti sauce on two and a half months ago. Yoochun doesn't like the glitz and glamour; he likes flipflops and ratty hats and shirts with holes in the armpits. Jaejoong wonders if the girls would find it appalling if they knew. Probably not. They like him for his smile and his soft-looking skin.
"What're you watching?" Yoochun says. His voice is drowsy.
Jaejoong shrugs and folds his arms so he doesn't look too uncomfortable.
"Looks like the news," Yoochun says and stands next to the couch with his hands in his pockets. "Where's Yunho?"
Jaejoong shrugs again, and this time, he moves his hand a little too quickly to brush his hair back and ends up scratching his jaw and resting his chin on his knuckles.
"Jaejoong," Yoochun says, and that's all.
The paint is peeling on the wall above the television, just a little bit, up toward the ceiling. Like the top of the room is being pressed down, centimeter by centimeter. Jaejoong studies it, then refocuses on the television when a car commercial ends. He thinks for a moment it'll be the weather or sports, but it's some small girls in yellow shorts and pink tops, dancing and singing and drinking orange juice.
"Where's Junsu?" he asks finally.
"Taking a shower," Yoochun says. "I just unclogged it yesterday. He sheds like a bear."
Jaejoong glances at Yoochun out of the corner of his eye, and sees him smile. He watches the television and wishes Yoochun would leave.
Yoochun settles into the armchair next to the sofa. He rests his elbows on his knees and laces his fingers up, loose. He looks at the television and purses his lips. It makes Jaejoong remember the stage light on the back of his neck, the wet air and the smell of sanded wood. The costume manager always makes Yoochun wear lipgloss, the kind with finely milled what's-it-called, the tinted kind sometimes, the clear gooey kind with the little sharp brush. Yoochun hated it at first, but now he asks for coconut-flavored. Sometimes Jaejoong catches him running his fingers through his hair, unconsciously checking the curl around his ears, the careful messiness at the crown of his head. He doesn't think any of them used to do that, least of all Yoochun.
It's three commercial breaks and the start of a romantic comedy sitcom about Paris before Yoochun asks, "Where's Changmin?"
"Out," Jaejoong says.
"A date," Yoochun says and nods to himself.
Jaejoong feels thirsty, and looks at the window. The light over the stove is off, so he can't see the kitchen's reflection. All he can see is the off-white of Yoochun's shirt, and the glitter of silver around his own neck. He gets up, feels his knees pop and give a little, and goes to the kitchen. He fixes a kettle, and leans back on the counter with the palms of both hands. Yoochun doesn't move from the living room. His hair looks very bright from the lamp on the side table. It's a yellow light, like used paper, because fluorescence hurts Yunho's eyes and makes him think of hospitals.
Jaejoong thinks, then, that Yunho must love performing so very much. He remembers Yunho with his head back, soaking up the heat like a plant. At dusk, his cat eyes go half-mast, and he yawns and stretches and puts his arms around people who he thinks will lead him back to the right home. Yunho is solar-powered, a self-sufficient sun. It scares Jaejoong a lot.
He wonders if Yoochun likes it, going up in front of thousands of people. He thinks that Yoochun must; they all love it whether they want to or not. Once, he'd asked Yoochun, he'd asked, 'Do you like it, even if they scream so much?'
Yoochun likes quiet, likes the pauses in between things.
'It's like the ocean,' Yoochun had said. 'I don't like it, Jaejoong. I wish we didn't have to do it. It's like tearing out your heart and harmonizing with it.'
Jaejoong likes the ocean, and he likes the screaming and the tight feeling in his throat, so he hadn't replied. He wishes he had, because now Yoochun is in the living room, being quiet and sitting still. He doesn't know what to say.
--
The first time Changmin smiled at him, really smiled at him, was when he'd said he once had a goldfish named Elnath.
"What about Gaesomun?" Changmin had said, his lips quirking. "Bo-Bae? Joo-Eun? Was it a boy or a girl?"
"I don't know," Jaejoong had said, and Changmin had grinned, wide and quick, as bright as rain.
"Oh," Changmin had said. "Such an irresponsible owner."
"Could you have done a better job?" Jaejoong had said.
"Yes," Changmin had said simply.
"Did you have one?" Jaejoong had asked.
"A pet?" Changmin had chewed on his lower lip, and Jaejoong had watched him.
It'd been gray out, clouds all over the buildings, the sidewalks dark and damp from yesterday's thunderstorm. They'd been looking for an ice cream shop. The one they'd usually gone to had been closed due to flooding.
"A turtle," Changmin had said. "Ha-Neul."
"Ha-Neul," Jaejoong had repeated. "I knew a girl named Ha-Neul in high school."
"Hmm," Changmin had said.
Jaejoong had glanced at him and he'd smiled again. It'd made Jaejoong feel like he was next to the only warm thing in a field of ice. It'd been an odd thing since it'd been pushing the high 30s that day. Changmin'd been wearing a light cotton jacket and a thin t-shirt, thin jeans, green sneakers. He'd been so surprised when Changmin's jacket wasn't soaked with sweat by the end of the day. Or maybe it had been, but he hadn't noticed.
They'd wandered Bupyeong and ended up eating bingsu, extra red bean syrup for Jaejoong, extra everything for Changmin. They'd sat down on a park bench, Changmin cross-legged and strategically eating all the bits of banana first, then all the ddeok. Changmin'd eaten the ice cream last, and it'd been all runny and lukewarm then, but he'd slurped it up, licked his lips, slurped some more.
"I love this," Changmin'd said.
"I like bungeo-ppang," Jaejoong had said.
"It's too hot out for that," Changmin had said.
Jaejoong had shrugged, and he couldn't think of anything else to say. "The cold hurts my teeth."
"You don't like the summer, do you?" Changmin'd said.
Jaejoong'd smiled, and it had been so easy and fast. "It's too bright out. It smells strange. I hate naengmyon."
"I love that too, but I bet it hurts your teeth," Changmin had said. He'd held his hand up to his mouth. "When you smile, you usually go like this."
"No I don't," Jaejoong said.
"Oh," Changmin had said, covering as much of his face as he could. "You're right, you usually go like this."
"Don't you want the rest of my bingsu?" Jaejoong had said, and Changmin had put his arms back down and graciously taken the small plastic cup. Jaejoong had watched him save the ice cream for last again.
They'd gotten back to the house after dinner time. Changmin had made them stop at a ramen shop, and Jaejoong had watched him eat two servings and piled more onto his plate when he wasn't looking. When Changmin'd gone to the bathroom, he'd flagged down the waitress and asked her for the biggest serving of naengmyon they had. Changmin'd gotten back and laughingly eaten it all, then squirmed the whole time home. He'd headed to the bathroom the minute they were in the front door, and Jaejoong'd grinned and waited in the hallway, though for what, he wasn't sure.
"You look like you had fun," Yunho'd said, walking from the living room and standing at the other end of the hall. His hair had been spiked up, a little wet, from a shower or swimming. "Some of us had a lot of work today."
"Yeah," Jaejoong'd said. "We went to Bupyeong. Junsu was supposed to come, but he got called to play football."
"Oh," Yunho had said. "I was going to ask you to come with me tomorrow."
"Do you need something?" Jaejoong had asked, and Yunho had given him a strange look.
"I wanted to see a movie."
"What movie?"
"Any movie."
"Sure."
Yunho'd smiled brilliantly at him. "Good. After dance practice."
Jaejoong'd watched him move down the hall toward him. He'd felt something tender, then, for Yunho who could put on a laser show with his arms and legs. "I didn't know you needed dance practice."
"Not for me," Yunho had said with a laugh. "For you."
"Oh," Jaejoong'd said. "You're not a vengeful person, are you?"
"No, not at all," Yunho'd said.
When Changmin had come back, Jaejoong had put his hand on his arm very carefully.
"Dance practice tomorrow," Jaejoong had said.
"I thought we had tomorrow off," Changmin had said.
Jaejoong had shrugged and smiled at Changmin. He hadn't stopped until Changmin smiled back.
--
Jaejoong turns off the kettle before it whistles; he can hear the water bubbling, and it sounds so agitated it almost drives him a little mad. He feels hypersensitive today, like his skin is very dry and his eyes have been open for too long. He doesn't know how to keep his lips closed without swallowing every few seconds.
"It's been a little weird lately," Yoochun says. He turns down the volume and the television goes to a murmur, like carpeting in a quiet room.
"There's a lot of stress," Jaejoong says. He doesn't feel like he has the right to say anymore, so he steeps the tea, waits three minutes, takes the teabag out. He likes loose tea better, but Yunho had accidentally broken the press last week, when he brought in a bag of oranges and knocked it to the floor.
"Well," Yoochun says and stops.
Jaejoong puts in some honey with a teaspoon, recaps the honey and puts it in the cupboard. He takes out a small ziplock of mint leaves, crushes a leaf between his fingers, lets it float on top as he mixes the honey in better. Smaller circles and larger circles. He feels like he's communicating with aliens. Yoochun seems like he's speaking so slowly.
"It's not really a big deal," Yoochun says. "It's over."
It's going to start any day again, Jaejoong wants to say, but there's no point, because Yoochun knows. Junsu and Yunho have been locked up writing the lyrics to a new song, and every morning Yoochun is playing the electric keyboard. Jaejoong really hates the sound of the keyboard; it sounds artificial and hollow, like the tinny noise a penny jukebox makes. Yoochun brings something extra, though, some sort of life that swirls around his fingertips. It makes it sound almost good.
"Japan was good," Yoochun says. "It'll be nice to tour home again."
Jaejoong looks at his tea, dips his index finger into it and draws it back too slow when he realizes it's still steaming. He shakes his hand and turns on the cold water to run his finger under.
"I think the new album's going to be good. It's going to be different," Yoochun says. It's so much noise for someone who says they like the silence. He's really trying. He's really reaching.
"I liked Japan," Jaejoong says quietly.
Yoochun is quiet then, and Jaejoong is glad. He wonders and then knows that this is unhealthy. He's ashamed that he can't talk to Yoochun, because Yoochun is one of his brothers, Yoochun is a part of it. They wouldn't be a whole without Yoochun.
He hears Yoochun get up, and he hears Yoochun say, "Get some sleep," and then he's alone again. He goes back to the living room and sits down. During a commercial for laundry detergent, he realizes that it's dawn already, and his mug of tea is cold and full. He must have fallen asleep. He sits up straight and there's a blanket across his shoulders. He pulls it off and brings it up to his face. It smells like Yunho, warm wood and a hint of musk and the fabric softener he uses. It smells a little like himself, too, and he wishes he could erase it.
--
The first time Changmin had admitted he was wrong was because of the Enceladus ice volcanoes. Jaejoong doesn't remember now what it was exactly - maybe something about Herschel - but he remembers the face Changmin had made, and the way Changmin had laughed. He had wondered if Changmin had always laughed that way, sort of self-deprecatingly, sort of charmingly. He had seemed to remember that when Changmin used to laugh, it had always seemed uncomfortable and sometimes a little cold. Maybe he had always been wrong.
"That's horrible," Changmin had said, "I can't believe I forgot that."
"It's okay," Jaejoong had said, "but now you owe me a shot of soju."
Changmin had turned a little pink on the ears. The only time he flushes are when he's reminded of his age and inexperience. Jaejoong has always found it to be endearing.
"Let's go out now," Jaejoong'd said. "Are you doing anything tonight?"
"No," Changmin had said.
Jaejoong had waited, thinking Changmin might say more, but that had been all. They had gone to the Han Yang bar, because Junsu had went two nights ago with some high school friends. They'd watched sports and eaten steamed egg and drank OB.
'Very class joint,' Junsu had said, laughing a little at his own words. 'I liked it a lot. The bartender,' he'd stopped and laughed a little more. Junsu never turns red when he's intoxicated. The only way to tell was to watch the way he walks and listen to him speak. He breathes different. He talks different. Jaejoong is sure that Yoochun thinks it's cute.
"I've never been before," Changmin'd said quietly.
"Me too," Jaejoong had said.
Changmin had gotten quieter. "No, I mean ever."
"Oh," Jaejoong had said, and waited to feel awkward or uncomfortable. He hadn't felt either, so he just ordered a bottle of soju and poured each of them a shot. "That's okay. You ever--?"
"No," Changmin had said.
Honors student, two years younger. Jaejoong had remembered all of that suddenly, and it had been more of a trickle, like a slow realization that the guy he had been eating bingsu and playing pool with was barely out of high school and somehow very different.
"That's okay," Jaejoong had said again, and searched the periphery of his thoughts to see if it really was okay. It had scared him when he found that it really was. "Watch it, it's a little strong."
It had turned out that Changmin had extraordinary tolerance and extraordinary balance. A few bottles in and Jaejoong had been eating peanuts off his napkin. The seat had been very warm and vinyl, the kind that cracked and showed cheap foam underneath. Jaejoong had wondered why Junsu recommended it so highly.
"I said there's a dartboard," Changmin had said.
"What? There?" Jaejoong had said.
"Do you want to play?"
Jaejoong had smiled and nodded at him. He hadn't been able to look away.
They'd gotten back around 4 a.m. Yunho'd still been up.
"What're you doing?" Changmin had asked.
"Cooking," Yunho'd said. He had had a box of cake mix in his hand. "Where did you guys go?"
"Han Yang," Changmin had said.
Yunho'd looked at Jaejoong and asked, "Was the bartender as cute as Junsu said?"
Jaejoong had shaken his head. "I don't know."
"He's pretty gone," Changmin had said. "I'll put him to bed."
"That's okay," Yunho had said. "He can be heavy. Watch the timer for me."
Changmin hadn't said anything, and Jaejoong had suddenly felt his arm being put around someone else's shoulders, then the give and firmness of his bed, then his shoes being taken off and blankets being pulled over him.
"Changmin?" he'd asked.
"No, it's me," Yunho'd said.
"Oh," Jaejoong had said, and fallen away into dreamlessness like a lightswitch being flicked off.
The next day, Yunho had asked Jaejoong to go out with him. Not to wander around Bupyeong, or to go to a bar because he lost a bet. He had asked Jaejoong to go out with him, in a way where Jaejoong had suddenly realized that Yunho wanted to undress him and Yunho wanted to kiss him and Yunho might even have wanted to hold his hand. He hadn't been sure what to say. So he'd said yes.
--
The door is opening, and Jaejoong rubs the sleep from his eyes. He's confused, disoriented, and he fumbles for the television controller and presses the off button. The room is too quiet, and he can hear the birds outside. The sun is just up. Everything looks as though it's reflected in gold tinfoil. He wonders a little if this is what it always looks like at dawn. He's forgotten.
He sips his tea and winces. It's bitter, and he's sure the honey's sunken to the bottom. He stands up, unsteady at first, then makes his way to the kitchen, fingering his hair and straightening his clothes. He's just getting his cereal out when he looks over and Junsu's taking off his shoes and padding toward the bathroom.
"Good morning," Junsu says.
Jaejoong feels the weight on his chest push down hard, then release. Disappointment. There's shame in that too.
"Good morning," he says, and winces again, this time at how his voice is a dry crackling croak.
Junsu looks at him curiously. "Did you stay up all night?"
Junsu's wearing adidas running shoes, running shorts, a t-shirt. He's very awake.
"No," Jaejoong says, clearing his throat. "Just fell asleep before I could get to bed."
Junsu grins. "Yeah. I saw that. Put the blanket over you - it gets a little chilly at night."
"Thanks," Jaejoong says. He's a little disappointed by that too. He really needs to take a shower. He feels all sorts of wrong this morning. "Want some orange juice or something?"
"No thanks," Junsu says. "Got my water bottle. I'm going to take a shower now."
"Okay," Jaejoong says, and stands uncomfortably, watching Junsu turn and go into the bathroom. He hears the sound of the toilet, the closet door opening and closing, the water turning on. He feels awful. It's probably the sleep deprivation.
He's just finishing breakfast when he hears the front door open again. He holds his breath a little, and jokes to himself that it's Yoochun, or the manager, or the cleaning lady. He hears Changmin's footsteps before he sees Changmin's tousled head. He hears the pause as Changmin toes off his shoes, hears the dull rubber thud of the soles on the doormat.
"Jaejoong," Changmin says. He looks startled. He barely has any color in his cheeks.
Jaejoong can think of a lot of things he wants to ask. Instead, he just says, "Want some cereal?"
--
The first time they'd fought was because of something Jaejoong could no longer remember. All he can remember is Yunho had sat at the foot of his bed and reached for his hands and said, "It's okay, even best friends get into arguments."
"We're not best friends," Jaejoong had said. For a split second, he'd felt irrationally angry at Yunho for saying that he and Changmin were best friends. A moment later, and he hadn't been able to remember why.
"What did you fight about?" Yunho had said.
"I don't want to talk about it," Jaejoong had said. He hadn't wanted to say that he hadn't been paying attention, that maybe he'd been careless.
"It's alright," Yunho had said. "You have to work it out. We're Dong Bang, right?"
"Do you see him a lot?" Jaejoong had asked suddenly.
"Changmin?" Yunho had said.
"I never see him anymore," Jaejoong had said. "That's kind of impossible, right? We work together, we live together. That's impossible, isn't it?"
Changmin hadn't been around unless he had to. He had been careful somehow. It had been like a precision knife.
"You're overthinking it," Yunho had said.
"You didn't say anything to him, did you?" Jaejoong had asked.
Yunho had looked so confused. "What would I say?"
Jaejoong had looked at him and shaken his head. He had crossed his arms, and moved closer. It had all felt so strange. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't know. I just feel like I did something wrong."
"Stress," Yunho'd said, putting his arms around Jaejoong. "It's probably just stress."
Later that night, Jaejoong had been in the kitchen. Junsu had wanted vegetable biryani, and he'd volunteered to give the recipe a try.
"Sorry," Changmin'd said. "I'm just looking for some water."
"Changmin," Jaejoong had said.
"Sorry," Changmin had repeated, and before Jaejoong could say anything else, he had disappeared back into the studio.
The vegetable biryani had turned out delicious. Jaejoong had put saran wrap over it and put it on the dining table.
"Is that it?" Junsu had asked. He had opened one of the kitchen cupboards. "Are you going to have any?"
"No," Jaejoong had said. "It's all yours."
Junsu'd laughed. "Did you poison it?"
Jaejoong had shaken his head. "I'm meeting my friend at the bar in Kangnam."
--
"Jaejoong," Changmin says. He's wearing sunglasses on his head and a flimsy long-sleeved shirt. His pants have some mud on them, and Jaejoong wonders briefly what he's been doing. The first thing he thinks is turning cartwheels in a field, and he has to suppress a laugh; he might have sounded a little hysterical.
"You're up early today," Changmin says.
"I was hungry," Jaejoong says. "Do you want some cereal?"
"No," Changmin says. "I just ate. Thank you."
"Why," Jaejoong starts, then tries again. "I need to ask you what you're angry about."
Changmin looks at him and says with serious eyes, "You should go to sleep."
"Is it because of Yunho?" Jaejoong asks. "Or is it because--?" He has trouble even thinking the words. He puts his hands together and weave his fingers. He squeezes until the knuckles are white, then stops.
Changmin walks over to the dining table. It's soundless, socks on carpet. He pulls out a chair and sits down across from Jaejoong, keeping his hands under the table.
"It's not that," Changmin says quietly. "I'm still thinking. I just need to think about some things."
"Some things," Jaejoong says.
"It's just that I - " Changmin doesn't seem to be able to look up. "It's just that I - I never thought of you as a selfish person."
"Oh," Jaejoong says.
Changmin's voice is steady. "And now."
"And now," Jaejoong repeats.
"You understand," Changmin says, and the way he says it is almost tender. "I don't blame you."
"Because you think I'm a bad person," Jaejoong says.
Changmin doesn't say anything. Jaejoong looks at him, and he sees him shaking his head. No.
"Because you think I'm a selfish person," Jaejoong says. He keeps watching. Changmin looks up, and there's something strange in his expression that looks a little familiar.
Jaejoong stands up and says as evenly as he can, "I'm going to bed."
"We're still friends," Changmin says.
"Well," Jaejoong says. "I don't see how you can be friends with a selfish person."
Changmin is quiet, and Jaejoong doesn't wait for him to say anything. He pushes his chair in, puts his bowl and spoon in the kitchen sink. In the bedroom, Yunho is lying awake and looking at the ceiling. Jaejoong doesn't say anything to him. He changes and crawls under the sheets of his own bed. Then he goes to sleep.
P.S. I totally kept typing "Jaehoo" for some reason. Like...mm-mm chocolatey goodness??
Between Saturn and the Moon
by naisumi
Pairings: Jaemin, Jaeho, peripheral Yoosu
Warnings: m/m slash pairing, bit o' angst
Please let me know if there are any cultural inaccuracies :X I'm not Korean, so mostly there has just been a lot of Wikipedia. Also, this so did not turn out the way I thought it would. I was like "Yay! Happy! Jaemin!" and Jaejoong and Changmin were like "What is this, Leave it to Beaver?"
Hmm...I just made them all live in that ridiculous apartment XD Where all five of them sleep in a room. And the timeframe is after their current tour. Deals with the DUI thing, etc.
All feedback appreciated! I don't have a beta, so :X Hopefully there's nothing glaringly wrong. I think there may be some tense issues >.> anyway, enjoy!
Between Saturn and the Moon
--
What it all boils down to is this: Changmin hadn't liked Jaejoong at all when they first met, not even a little. Had it been the way he talked or the things he said? Or maybe the way he laughed or the way he wore his clothes, wore his hair, wore long earrings?
"Yunho says it makes my neck look long," Jaejoong had said and laughed a little. Yunho had been the crutch back then, the fast friend. He still was, and maybe he always would be.
"I don't really like earrings," Changmin had said, and moved away with a polite smile. He'd moved like slow, slow water.
Jaejoong hadn't watched him go, and now he wonders why. He wonders because it's dark out, and it's been too often that he hasn't seen Changmin come home, and too often that Changmin has eaten a quick breakfast with his hands and disappeared into the sun. He wonders, too, because it's a sticky summer and he knows Changmin likes girls with lemon juice in their hair. If he put lemon juice on, would Changmin lick it off? Laugh and say he likes dark hair and dark eyes just fine?
Jaejoong doesn't think so.
--
Their first real conversation had been about the Beehive Cluster. They'd talked about the moon rising over Haleakala, in Maui, in May. They'd talked about looking west.
"What about the Aquarid meteors," Changmin had said. He'd been wearing something plain; a t-shirt, jeans, no socks or shoes. "Falling stars. From the earth, we can only see three thousand stars, three thousand and the falling ones."
"They tell you that in class?" Jaejoong had asked. "Maybe I was just a bad student. The closest I got to the speed of light was a mole."
Changmin had shrugged. "I read it somewhere. My mother's got a telescope, a dobsonian."
"Extracurricular," Jaejoong had said. "I see what Junsu meant when he said you were impressive."
Admiring Changmin had been the wrong thing to do. He'd closed his mouth and looked up at the sky, silent. Jaejoong had tried to see if he'd been blushing. He hadn't been.
They'd stood in the backyard like that, quiet, until Changmin had softly said good night. Jaejoong had heard him close the sliding door carefully behind him. He'd been tired too, but he hadn't wanted to go inside yet. He'd looked around for a long time, looked at patches of streetlight through the trees. He'd listened to the sound of dogs in the distance, echoing their need for food and play, the kind that crashed through the park and skidded around gutters. He'd wanted some cold tea, so badly that his mouth watered under his tongue, but the kitchen had been dark. He'd gone to bed instead.
--
Yoochun comes in the middle of a commercial break. He's wearing low jeans and the long sleeveless tank that Junsu spilled spaghetti sauce on two and a half months ago. Yoochun doesn't like the glitz and glamour; he likes flipflops and ratty hats and shirts with holes in the armpits. Jaejoong wonders if the girls would find it appalling if they knew. Probably not. They like him for his smile and his soft-looking skin.
"What're you watching?" Yoochun says. His voice is drowsy.
Jaejoong shrugs and folds his arms so he doesn't look too uncomfortable.
"Looks like the news," Yoochun says and stands next to the couch with his hands in his pockets. "Where's Yunho?"
Jaejoong shrugs again, and this time, he moves his hand a little too quickly to brush his hair back and ends up scratching his jaw and resting his chin on his knuckles.
"Jaejoong," Yoochun says, and that's all.
The paint is peeling on the wall above the television, just a little bit, up toward the ceiling. Like the top of the room is being pressed down, centimeter by centimeter. Jaejoong studies it, then refocuses on the television when a car commercial ends. He thinks for a moment it'll be the weather or sports, but it's some small girls in yellow shorts and pink tops, dancing and singing and drinking orange juice.
"Where's Junsu?" he asks finally.
"Taking a shower," Yoochun says. "I just unclogged it yesterday. He sheds like a bear."
Jaejoong glances at Yoochun out of the corner of his eye, and sees him smile. He watches the television and wishes Yoochun would leave.
Yoochun settles into the armchair next to the sofa. He rests his elbows on his knees and laces his fingers up, loose. He looks at the television and purses his lips. It makes Jaejoong remember the stage light on the back of his neck, the wet air and the smell of sanded wood. The costume manager always makes Yoochun wear lipgloss, the kind with finely milled what's-it-called, the tinted kind sometimes, the clear gooey kind with the little sharp brush. Yoochun hated it at first, but now he asks for coconut-flavored. Sometimes Jaejoong catches him running his fingers through his hair, unconsciously checking the curl around his ears, the careful messiness at the crown of his head. He doesn't think any of them used to do that, least of all Yoochun.
It's three commercial breaks and the start of a romantic comedy sitcom about Paris before Yoochun asks, "Where's Changmin?"
"Out," Jaejoong says.
"A date," Yoochun says and nods to himself.
Jaejoong feels thirsty, and looks at the window. The light over the stove is off, so he can't see the kitchen's reflection. All he can see is the off-white of Yoochun's shirt, and the glitter of silver around his own neck. He gets up, feels his knees pop and give a little, and goes to the kitchen. He fixes a kettle, and leans back on the counter with the palms of both hands. Yoochun doesn't move from the living room. His hair looks very bright from the lamp on the side table. It's a yellow light, like used paper, because fluorescence hurts Yunho's eyes and makes him think of hospitals.
Jaejoong thinks, then, that Yunho must love performing so very much. He remembers Yunho with his head back, soaking up the heat like a plant. At dusk, his cat eyes go half-mast, and he yawns and stretches and puts his arms around people who he thinks will lead him back to the right home. Yunho is solar-powered, a self-sufficient sun. It scares Jaejoong a lot.
He wonders if Yoochun likes it, going up in front of thousands of people. He thinks that Yoochun must; they all love it whether they want to or not. Once, he'd asked Yoochun, he'd asked, 'Do you like it, even if they scream so much?'
Yoochun likes quiet, likes the pauses in between things.
'It's like the ocean,' Yoochun had said. 'I don't like it, Jaejoong. I wish we didn't have to do it. It's like tearing out your heart and harmonizing with it.'
Jaejoong likes the ocean, and he likes the screaming and the tight feeling in his throat, so he hadn't replied. He wishes he had, because now Yoochun is in the living room, being quiet and sitting still. He doesn't know what to say.
--
The first time Changmin smiled at him, really smiled at him, was when he'd said he once had a goldfish named Elnath.
"What about Gaesomun?" Changmin had said, his lips quirking. "Bo-Bae? Joo-Eun? Was it a boy or a girl?"
"I don't know," Jaejoong had said, and Changmin had grinned, wide and quick, as bright as rain.
"Oh," Changmin had said. "Such an irresponsible owner."
"Could you have done a better job?" Jaejoong had said.
"Yes," Changmin had said simply.
"Did you have one?" Jaejoong had asked.
"A pet?" Changmin had chewed on his lower lip, and Jaejoong had watched him.
It'd been gray out, clouds all over the buildings, the sidewalks dark and damp from yesterday's thunderstorm. They'd been looking for an ice cream shop. The one they'd usually gone to had been closed due to flooding.
"A turtle," Changmin had said. "Ha-Neul."
"Ha-Neul," Jaejoong had repeated. "I knew a girl named Ha-Neul in high school."
"Hmm," Changmin had said.
Jaejoong had glanced at him and he'd smiled again. It'd made Jaejoong feel like he was next to the only warm thing in a field of ice. It'd been an odd thing since it'd been pushing the high 30s that day. Changmin'd been wearing a light cotton jacket and a thin t-shirt, thin jeans, green sneakers. He'd been so surprised when Changmin's jacket wasn't soaked with sweat by the end of the day. Or maybe it had been, but he hadn't noticed.
They'd wandered Bupyeong and ended up eating bingsu, extra red bean syrup for Jaejoong, extra everything for Changmin. They'd sat down on a park bench, Changmin cross-legged and strategically eating all the bits of banana first, then all the ddeok. Changmin'd eaten the ice cream last, and it'd been all runny and lukewarm then, but he'd slurped it up, licked his lips, slurped some more.
"I love this," Changmin'd said.
"I like bungeo-ppang," Jaejoong had said.
"It's too hot out for that," Changmin had said.
Jaejoong had shrugged, and he couldn't think of anything else to say. "The cold hurts my teeth."
"You don't like the summer, do you?" Changmin'd said.
Jaejoong'd smiled, and it had been so easy and fast. "It's too bright out. It smells strange. I hate naengmyon."
"I love that too, but I bet it hurts your teeth," Changmin had said. He'd held his hand up to his mouth. "When you smile, you usually go like this."
"No I don't," Jaejoong said.
"Oh," Changmin had said, covering as much of his face as he could. "You're right, you usually go like this."
"Don't you want the rest of my bingsu?" Jaejoong had said, and Changmin had put his arms back down and graciously taken the small plastic cup. Jaejoong had watched him save the ice cream for last again.
They'd gotten back to the house after dinner time. Changmin had made them stop at a ramen shop, and Jaejoong had watched him eat two servings and piled more onto his plate when he wasn't looking. When Changmin'd gone to the bathroom, he'd flagged down the waitress and asked her for the biggest serving of naengmyon they had. Changmin'd gotten back and laughingly eaten it all, then squirmed the whole time home. He'd headed to the bathroom the minute they were in the front door, and Jaejoong'd grinned and waited in the hallway, though for what, he wasn't sure.
"You look like you had fun," Yunho'd said, walking from the living room and standing at the other end of the hall. His hair had been spiked up, a little wet, from a shower or swimming. "Some of us had a lot of work today."
"Yeah," Jaejoong'd said. "We went to Bupyeong. Junsu was supposed to come, but he got called to play football."
"Oh," Yunho had said. "I was going to ask you to come with me tomorrow."
"Do you need something?" Jaejoong had asked, and Yunho had given him a strange look.
"I wanted to see a movie."
"What movie?"
"Any movie."
"Sure."
Yunho'd smiled brilliantly at him. "Good. After dance practice."
Jaejoong'd watched him move down the hall toward him. He'd felt something tender, then, for Yunho who could put on a laser show with his arms and legs. "I didn't know you needed dance practice."
"Not for me," Yunho had said with a laugh. "For you."
"Oh," Jaejoong'd said. "You're not a vengeful person, are you?"
"No, not at all," Yunho'd said.
When Changmin had come back, Jaejoong had put his hand on his arm very carefully.
"Dance practice tomorrow," Jaejoong had said.
"I thought we had tomorrow off," Changmin had said.
Jaejoong had shrugged and smiled at Changmin. He hadn't stopped until Changmin smiled back.
--
Jaejoong turns off the kettle before it whistles; he can hear the water bubbling, and it sounds so agitated it almost drives him a little mad. He feels hypersensitive today, like his skin is very dry and his eyes have been open for too long. He doesn't know how to keep his lips closed without swallowing every few seconds.
"It's been a little weird lately," Yoochun says. He turns down the volume and the television goes to a murmur, like carpeting in a quiet room.
"There's a lot of stress," Jaejoong says. He doesn't feel like he has the right to say anymore, so he steeps the tea, waits three minutes, takes the teabag out. He likes loose tea better, but Yunho had accidentally broken the press last week, when he brought in a bag of oranges and knocked it to the floor.
"Well," Yoochun says and stops.
Jaejoong puts in some honey with a teaspoon, recaps the honey and puts it in the cupboard. He takes out a small ziplock of mint leaves, crushes a leaf between his fingers, lets it float on top as he mixes the honey in better. Smaller circles and larger circles. He feels like he's communicating with aliens. Yoochun seems like he's speaking so slowly.
"It's not really a big deal," Yoochun says. "It's over."
It's going to start any day again, Jaejoong wants to say, but there's no point, because Yoochun knows. Junsu and Yunho have been locked up writing the lyrics to a new song, and every morning Yoochun is playing the electric keyboard. Jaejoong really hates the sound of the keyboard; it sounds artificial and hollow, like the tinny noise a penny jukebox makes. Yoochun brings something extra, though, some sort of life that swirls around his fingertips. It makes it sound almost good.
"Japan was good," Yoochun says. "It'll be nice to tour home again."
Jaejoong looks at his tea, dips his index finger into it and draws it back too slow when he realizes it's still steaming. He shakes his hand and turns on the cold water to run his finger under.
"I think the new album's going to be good. It's going to be different," Yoochun says. It's so much noise for someone who says they like the silence. He's really trying. He's really reaching.
"I liked Japan," Jaejoong says quietly.
Yoochun is quiet then, and Jaejoong is glad. He wonders and then knows that this is unhealthy. He's ashamed that he can't talk to Yoochun, because Yoochun is one of his brothers, Yoochun is a part of it. They wouldn't be a whole without Yoochun.
He hears Yoochun get up, and he hears Yoochun say, "Get some sleep," and then he's alone again. He goes back to the living room and sits down. During a commercial for laundry detergent, he realizes that it's dawn already, and his mug of tea is cold and full. He must have fallen asleep. He sits up straight and there's a blanket across his shoulders. He pulls it off and brings it up to his face. It smells like Yunho, warm wood and a hint of musk and the fabric softener he uses. It smells a little like himself, too, and he wishes he could erase it.
--
The first time Changmin had admitted he was wrong was because of the Enceladus ice volcanoes. Jaejoong doesn't remember now what it was exactly - maybe something about Herschel - but he remembers the face Changmin had made, and the way Changmin had laughed. He had wondered if Changmin had always laughed that way, sort of self-deprecatingly, sort of charmingly. He had seemed to remember that when Changmin used to laugh, it had always seemed uncomfortable and sometimes a little cold. Maybe he had always been wrong.
"That's horrible," Changmin had said, "I can't believe I forgot that."
"It's okay," Jaejoong had said, "but now you owe me a shot of soju."
Changmin had turned a little pink on the ears. The only time he flushes are when he's reminded of his age and inexperience. Jaejoong has always found it to be endearing.
"Let's go out now," Jaejoong'd said. "Are you doing anything tonight?"
"No," Changmin had said.
Jaejoong had waited, thinking Changmin might say more, but that had been all. They had gone to the Han Yang bar, because Junsu had went two nights ago with some high school friends. They'd watched sports and eaten steamed egg and drank OB.
'Very class joint,' Junsu had said, laughing a little at his own words. 'I liked it a lot. The bartender,' he'd stopped and laughed a little more. Junsu never turns red when he's intoxicated. The only way to tell was to watch the way he walks and listen to him speak. He breathes different. He talks different. Jaejoong is sure that Yoochun thinks it's cute.
"I've never been before," Changmin'd said quietly.
"Me too," Jaejoong had said.
Changmin had gotten quieter. "No, I mean ever."
"Oh," Jaejoong had said, and waited to feel awkward or uncomfortable. He hadn't felt either, so he just ordered a bottle of soju and poured each of them a shot. "That's okay. You ever--?"
"No," Changmin had said.
Honors student, two years younger. Jaejoong had remembered all of that suddenly, and it had been more of a trickle, like a slow realization that the guy he had been eating bingsu and playing pool with was barely out of high school and somehow very different.
"That's okay," Jaejoong had said again, and searched the periphery of his thoughts to see if it really was okay. It had scared him when he found that it really was. "Watch it, it's a little strong."
It had turned out that Changmin had extraordinary tolerance and extraordinary balance. A few bottles in and Jaejoong had been eating peanuts off his napkin. The seat had been very warm and vinyl, the kind that cracked and showed cheap foam underneath. Jaejoong had wondered why Junsu recommended it so highly.
"I said there's a dartboard," Changmin had said.
"What? There?" Jaejoong had said.
"Do you want to play?"
Jaejoong had smiled and nodded at him. He hadn't been able to look away.
They'd gotten back around 4 a.m. Yunho'd still been up.
"What're you doing?" Changmin had asked.
"Cooking," Yunho'd said. He had had a box of cake mix in his hand. "Where did you guys go?"
"Han Yang," Changmin had said.
Yunho'd looked at Jaejoong and asked, "Was the bartender as cute as Junsu said?"
Jaejoong had shaken his head. "I don't know."
"He's pretty gone," Changmin had said. "I'll put him to bed."
"That's okay," Yunho had said. "He can be heavy. Watch the timer for me."
Changmin hadn't said anything, and Jaejoong had suddenly felt his arm being put around someone else's shoulders, then the give and firmness of his bed, then his shoes being taken off and blankets being pulled over him.
"Changmin?" he'd asked.
"No, it's me," Yunho'd said.
"Oh," Jaejoong had said, and fallen away into dreamlessness like a lightswitch being flicked off.
The next day, Yunho had asked Jaejoong to go out with him. Not to wander around Bupyeong, or to go to a bar because he lost a bet. He had asked Jaejoong to go out with him, in a way where Jaejoong had suddenly realized that Yunho wanted to undress him and Yunho wanted to kiss him and Yunho might even have wanted to hold his hand. He hadn't been sure what to say. So he'd said yes.
--
The door is opening, and Jaejoong rubs the sleep from his eyes. He's confused, disoriented, and he fumbles for the television controller and presses the off button. The room is too quiet, and he can hear the birds outside. The sun is just up. Everything looks as though it's reflected in gold tinfoil. He wonders a little if this is what it always looks like at dawn. He's forgotten.
He sips his tea and winces. It's bitter, and he's sure the honey's sunken to the bottom. He stands up, unsteady at first, then makes his way to the kitchen, fingering his hair and straightening his clothes. He's just getting his cereal out when he looks over and Junsu's taking off his shoes and padding toward the bathroom.
"Good morning," Junsu says.
Jaejoong feels the weight on his chest push down hard, then release. Disappointment. There's shame in that too.
"Good morning," he says, and winces again, this time at how his voice is a dry crackling croak.
Junsu looks at him curiously. "Did you stay up all night?"
Junsu's wearing adidas running shoes, running shorts, a t-shirt. He's very awake.
"No," Jaejoong says, clearing his throat. "Just fell asleep before I could get to bed."
Junsu grins. "Yeah. I saw that. Put the blanket over you - it gets a little chilly at night."
"Thanks," Jaejoong says. He's a little disappointed by that too. He really needs to take a shower. He feels all sorts of wrong this morning. "Want some orange juice or something?"
"No thanks," Junsu says. "Got my water bottle. I'm going to take a shower now."
"Okay," Jaejoong says, and stands uncomfortably, watching Junsu turn and go into the bathroom. He hears the sound of the toilet, the closet door opening and closing, the water turning on. He feels awful. It's probably the sleep deprivation.
He's just finishing breakfast when he hears the front door open again. He holds his breath a little, and jokes to himself that it's Yoochun, or the manager, or the cleaning lady. He hears Changmin's footsteps before he sees Changmin's tousled head. He hears the pause as Changmin toes off his shoes, hears the dull rubber thud of the soles on the doormat.
"Jaejoong," Changmin says. He looks startled. He barely has any color in his cheeks.
Jaejoong can think of a lot of things he wants to ask. Instead, he just says, "Want some cereal?"
--
The first time they'd fought was because of something Jaejoong could no longer remember. All he can remember is Yunho had sat at the foot of his bed and reached for his hands and said, "It's okay, even best friends get into arguments."
"We're not best friends," Jaejoong had said. For a split second, he'd felt irrationally angry at Yunho for saying that he and Changmin were best friends. A moment later, and he hadn't been able to remember why.
"What did you fight about?" Yunho had said.
"I don't want to talk about it," Jaejoong had said. He hadn't wanted to say that he hadn't been paying attention, that maybe he'd been careless.
"It's alright," Yunho had said. "You have to work it out. We're Dong Bang, right?"
"Do you see him a lot?" Jaejoong had asked suddenly.
"Changmin?" Yunho had said.
"I never see him anymore," Jaejoong had said. "That's kind of impossible, right? We work together, we live together. That's impossible, isn't it?"
Changmin hadn't been around unless he had to. He had been careful somehow. It had been like a precision knife.
"You're overthinking it," Yunho had said.
"You didn't say anything to him, did you?" Jaejoong had asked.
Yunho had looked so confused. "What would I say?"
Jaejoong had looked at him and shaken his head. He had crossed his arms, and moved closer. It had all felt so strange. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't know. I just feel like I did something wrong."
"Stress," Yunho'd said, putting his arms around Jaejoong. "It's probably just stress."
Later that night, Jaejoong had been in the kitchen. Junsu had wanted vegetable biryani, and he'd volunteered to give the recipe a try.
"Sorry," Changmin'd said. "I'm just looking for some water."
"Changmin," Jaejoong had said.
"Sorry," Changmin had repeated, and before Jaejoong could say anything else, he had disappeared back into the studio.
The vegetable biryani had turned out delicious. Jaejoong had put saran wrap over it and put it on the dining table.
"Is that it?" Junsu had asked. He had opened one of the kitchen cupboards. "Are you going to have any?"
"No," Jaejoong had said. "It's all yours."
Junsu'd laughed. "Did you poison it?"
Jaejoong had shaken his head. "I'm meeting my friend at the bar in Kangnam."
--
"Jaejoong," Changmin says. He's wearing sunglasses on his head and a flimsy long-sleeved shirt. His pants have some mud on them, and Jaejoong wonders briefly what he's been doing. The first thing he thinks is turning cartwheels in a field, and he has to suppress a laugh; he might have sounded a little hysterical.
"You're up early today," Changmin says.
"I was hungry," Jaejoong says. "Do you want some cereal?"
"No," Changmin says. "I just ate. Thank you."
"Why," Jaejoong starts, then tries again. "I need to ask you what you're angry about."
Changmin looks at him and says with serious eyes, "You should go to sleep."
"Is it because of Yunho?" Jaejoong asks. "Or is it because--?" He has trouble even thinking the words. He puts his hands together and weave his fingers. He squeezes until the knuckles are white, then stops.
Changmin walks over to the dining table. It's soundless, socks on carpet. He pulls out a chair and sits down across from Jaejoong, keeping his hands under the table.
"It's not that," Changmin says quietly. "I'm still thinking. I just need to think about some things."
"Some things," Jaejoong says.
"It's just that I - " Changmin doesn't seem to be able to look up. "It's just that I - I never thought of you as a selfish person."
"Oh," Jaejoong says.
Changmin's voice is steady. "And now."
"And now," Jaejoong repeats.
"You understand," Changmin says, and the way he says it is almost tender. "I don't blame you."
"Because you think I'm a bad person," Jaejoong says.
Changmin doesn't say anything. Jaejoong looks at him, and he sees him shaking his head. No.
"Because you think I'm a selfish person," Jaejoong says. He keeps watching. Changmin looks up, and there's something strange in his expression that looks a little familiar.
Jaejoong stands up and says as evenly as he can, "I'm going to bed."
"We're still friends," Changmin says.
"Well," Jaejoong says. "I don't see how you can be friends with a selfish person."
Changmin is quiet, and Jaejoong doesn't wait for him to say anything. He pushes his chair in, puts his bowl and spoon in the kitchen sink. In the bedroom, Yunho is lying awake and looking at the ceiling. Jaejoong doesn't say anything to him. He changes and crawls under the sheets of his own bed. Then he goes to sleep.