Fic: There is a remedy

Nov 12, 2007 17:08



This is what life is like.

-disembodied heads on every building, echoing the phrase no talk no play no love.

-rows of grey-uniformed people who march in unison, who look the same and think the same and act the same.

-guards on every corner of the street, next to the endless signs ingrained in everyone’s mind.

-museums of past relics, their meanings abandoned and forgotten

It’s how it’s always been.

*

Strange things, however, have started occurring in their city. The first incident had been the robbery at one of the Museums, which Changmin had heard about from his neighbor. They’re normally discouraged from frivolous talks, but there’s no one around to hear them.

“The only thing taken was some instrument,” Jaejoong muses, glancing around for any guards they might have missed, who could be listening to them now.

Changmin’s puzzled. He doesn’t see the point of taking something no one has a use for, but he stays quiet. The less they say, the less chance there is of getting caught.

Jaejoong continues, "They say the person who did it is still out there."

“How do you know?” Changmin asks.

Jaejoong flashes him a bleak smile as he turns to open the door of his apartment. “You think they wouldn’t broadcast capturing the only person who’s managed to defy them?”

*

The next incident is covered up almost immediately, but Changmin sees it, knows about it, and maybe he’s the only one. He had been late to the daily meetings hosted by the government, and was so afraid of missing it that he had taken a forbidden shortcut, ducking around houses and going through empty roads.

As he rounds a corner, he sees a flash of color, and halts in his tracks. All along the wall in front of him are posters, shining and glossy, with a single image in the center: a cube made of the words talk, play, and love. He stares at them in awe for some time until he remembers with a start where he is supposed to be. Before he goes, though, he takes one, peeling it gently off the wall, folding it into small squares, and hiding it in his shirt- he’s propelled by some strange desire inside him that robs him of his common sense and obedience to the laws. When he gets home he hides it underneath the floorboards, pushing a cabinet on top for good measure.

He stops by that same street the next day, and there is nothing there but smooth, unblemished wood and paint.

*

Going out late out night- breaking curfew- is prohibited, but Changmin breaks the rules just this once. As he hesitantly steps outside, shivering in the cold night air, he wonders what the hell’s gotten into him. It’s because of the poster he’s got hidden in his room- he feels uneasy and unsettled thinking of it- he’s tempted to just live.

He’s walking down the street, marveling at how the sky looks and how the air feels, when someone grabs him from behind, one hand firmly on his mouth and the other holding his arm in a vice-like grip.

“Oh, fuck,” he thinks for a second before cold fear sweeps over him. He’s going to die, he knows it, the government doesn’t put up with miscreants, what was he thinking?

There’s a voice in his ear, male. “Shut up,” the person mutters, dragging him backwards to some secluded alley. If he could work his voice he would laugh- he’s so paralyzed with fear he can’t do anything, let alone scream and fight.

He’s released and roughly shoved onto the floor. Now, his mind tells him, would be the time to try and escape. Unfortunately for Changmin, he feels more like fainting than fleeing.

“You’re fucking lucky I saw you before those guard assholes did,” hisses the voice. “What were you trying to do, get yourself killed?”

Changmin can only shake his head, heart still racing wildly. The shadowy figure leans over, gets in his face.

“Are you a moron?” the figure demands.

The only noise Changmin can make is a squeak. When he realizes he might not actually die, though, his breathing returns somewhat to normal, and he finally looks up at his assailant. Despite the moonlight, he can’t make out any features besides ragged, unkempt clothes over a thin, wiry body.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps out, inching backwards.

The person snorts, looking over his shoulder quickly. “Go back inside before someone catches you,” he says, and walks away.

Changmin’s all too willing to obey; he scrambles to his feet and practically runs back to his apartment. As he’s opening the door, he turns involuntarily, eyes searching for his unlikely savior.

There’s no one there.

*

He manages to get back into his normal, monotonous routine with relative ease. It’s safer, he tells himself. There are no more late night escapades, no more sneaking around- there’s only the poster as a reminder of his temporary defiance, but that’s hidden away too. He’s the epitome of submission, the first to arrive at every meeting, the only one to stay silent and thus receive no reprimands. He doesn’t even think.

So when he finds himself walking around some barren, deserted neighborhood, again, he really has no excuses.

“I was doing so well, too,” he sighs to himself. He sits down on the curb and buries his face in his hands. This time, when he hears footsteps, he’s not even that afraid, really. It’s obvious he’s never going to learn his lesson; maybe it would be better if the guard caught him and dealt with him here and now, get it over with.

What he hears, however, is a snort. A very familiar, huffy, drawn-out exhalation. He looks up, and oh, it’s that guy again, who, by his sour expression, doesn’t seem very happy to see him either.

And then Changmin really looks at him, and is taken aback. Surely this isn’t the same person who saved him, with the too bright clothes and dyed red hair?

“Oh my god,” he blurts out, backing up quickly. “You’re a rebel!” he accuses.

The speakers have talked about them. “Don’t listen to them, they’ll disrupt our perfect world, they’re trying to destroy us,” they warned. “They’re no good.”

The other man just looks amused, shakes his head. “Aren’t you a rebel too?” he says, mockingly. “You’re breaking the rules by being out here, just like me.”

Changmin pauses. “It’s not the same thing,” he snaps. There’s a difference between being a rebel and just breaking the rules a little. His eyes are suddenly drawn to the other’s hands, which seem covered in paint, or-

“That is exactly what I mean!” he exclaims, pointing to the wall behind them. Emblazoned on the dreary brick wall are three feet high letters with the same defiant message. Talk. Play. Love. How impossible, he thinks angrily. “Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?”

“Aren’t you afraid?” the man counters, eyes flashing. “You don’t know what you’re doing. I do. What are you trying to prove? Acting like you’d stand up to the government, like you’re willing to fight this.” His words are biting, almost cruel, and Changmin flinches, as if he’s been stung.

He seems to notice, because his expression softens slightly. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Changmin,” he says without thinking, and then scowls. Kid? “I’m taller than you,” he adds.

“Changmin,” the rebel says thoughtfully. He smiles, looks at him eye to eye. “I’ll see you around,” he says smoothly, thumb brushing the side of his jaw and leaving a streak of paint there, like he’s been marked. “If you plan on doing more rebellious stuff, that is.” He bows mockingly, and leaves.

Once more he’s left speechless, and it’s only much, much later that he thinks, I don’t know his name.

*

It’s not as if Changmin is trying to find him when he wanders around the city. He’s looking for something, admittedly, but even he’s not sure what it is. Freedom, maybe. Something beautiful.

Junsu (that’s his name, he learns) is the one who approaches him, with a smile that’s sharp and dangerous, an invitation to break the rules, beckoning him to come on.

Junsu takes him to his home, some abandoned warehouse miles away, amidst deserted lands and sparse trees, where no one would think to look. His room is sunny with windows all the way up to the ceiling; there are couches and heaps of equipment Changmin’s never seen before.

He touches them reverently, looking at the assortment of knobs and buttons that are unfamiliar to him. “What can you do with them?” he asks wonderingly, holding up something that’s he’s seen in the museum but didn’t know the name for.

“That’s a guitar,” Junsu says, taking it away from him. “You can play music on them.”

Changmin nods as if he understands. “Do you know how to play?” He’s curious, because surely there’s no one who knows- that knowledge should have been wiped out long ago.

Junsu’s hands tighten slightly on the guitar, turning the knuckles and skin white, but his voice is still calm. “Yes,” he says. “My- a friend taught me.” He smiles humorlessly. “But he’s gone now. The government took him away.”

“He loved me,” Junsu says abruptly. “He loved me, and he loved music, and that’s why he had to go.” His voice cracks a bit, and Changmin feels a pang in his heart. That’s why Junsu seems bitter sometimes, why he told Changmin not to be so reckless and foolish.

“It’s why I do this,” he continues, staring at his hands. “For Yoochun.”

*

They meet again and again and it becomes a routine. Whenever he can, Changmin sneaks away from his apartment and sets out on a long trek for that lone house with that lone man. Sometimes when he leaves the building, he sees Jaejoong in the building, watching him. But he never says anything, never tells on Changmin.

Each meeting is a blur- he can never really remember what they talk about; they’re fragmented memories of sprawled bodies on the couch, arms and legs overlapping, and the sound of words and voices after so much silence.

Today is different. Junsu grabs Changmin as soon as he walks in, and the atmosphere is charged, almost tense, with the potential of what’s to come.

“It’s going to happen,” he says, words tumbling out in a rush. “Soon.”

Changmin glances at him. Junsu’s jittery, fidgeting and tapping his fingers against the table, constantly moving as if he’s got all this excess energy he doesn’t know what to do with.

“Are you serious?” he asks, voice hushed, afraid to seem too hopeful. Junsu hasn’t told him everything, but he's said enough to hint that something has been planned, something big. A sense of exhilaration sweeps through him, the thought that maybe, maybe this will work, and put an end to their government.

“I’m not the only one in on this,” Junsu had said before, after Changmin told him about break-in at the museum, the poster he took.

“There’s a guard,” Junsu says, eyes narrowing as he goes over the plan in his mind. “His name is Yunho. His sister was taken by the government. We’ve made arrangements with him to go on the roof, and send out our message, undisturbed.” He looks at Changmin, smiles. “Watch for us.”

Changmin exhales loudly, goes back to lying down on the couch. Hope is such a foreign feeling it makes him uncomfortable.

Junsu chooses that moment to clamber on top of him, and all his uneasiness is driven away. “I’ll sing you our song,” he says with a wide grin, pinning Changmin down. Changmin laughs and struggles half-heartedly, but resigns himself to the warm weight on his legs, torso, arms. Junsu hums something against his neck, and then Changmin feels a brush of lips against his own.

He freezes, tensing, staring into Junsu’s face. Panic crawls up his spine; all his instincts tell him to pull away since love, such obvious love, is wrong and forbidden and just not done. The message of 'no love' has been so ingrained in him that he's still prey to it now.

He's been rebelling but it's never been this big, this life-changing.

He's been searching for something and suddenly he wonders if this is it.

Junsu doesn’t look away, just smiles sadly. “I’m sorry - ” he starts, but Changmin surprises both of them by leaning up, kissing him again. Who cares, he thinks. Who cares if the plan fails? Who cares if he gets caught? Taking risks, trying, attempting to change something, that’s what’s important. And no matter what happens tomorrow, he’ll always have this moment.

Later, when they’re in Junsu’s bed and Changmin’s about to fall asleep, he hears Junsu singing.

“You can love.”

anyband, minsu

Previous post Next post
Up