Ripped Chords and Blue Jeans 7/?
Title: Ripped Chords and Blue Jeans 7/?
Pairing: Yoochun/Jaejoong (implied Yunho/Jaejoong)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I would teach them how to play *pervs*
Summary: Yoochun is a piano instructor for children of the elite. When a bonafide prodigy lands on his piano bench, Yoochun falls hard
Warning: Underage sex. Yoochun is 24, Jaejoong is 15. Drug use, physical abuse (NOT Yoochun beating Jaejoong)
Poster credit goes to crazyaboutchun. Thank you darling! I love it! ♥
Part 7:
Jaejoong said nothing to him on Wednesday. Yoochun could not tell if there were new bruises on his face, but his hands shook, like he hadn’t slept, or like he was coming down from a high.
For the first time since class started, Jaejoong hit sour notes on the piano when he played at the end of class.
“You alright?” Yoochun asked as soon as the girls were gone (Jaelin shot him worried glances as she left).
Jaejoong lowered his head and nodded. “F-fine.”
“Are you coming to your lesson tomorrow?”
“Y-yes.”
“Okay.”
When Jaejoong stood up, Yoochun bit back a noise of surprise. It was the first time he’d ever seen Jaejoong not get an erection from playing the piano. Jaejoong’s breath wheezed in and out of his mouth, and he hurried to his desk for his bag. Yoochun sighed.
“Jaejoong,” he said as the boy hurried to the door. He stopped, shoulders tensing.
Yoochun stood up and moved to him. He hugged him from behind, the first contact they had since Monday. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I always do. No one else cares.” Jaejoong twisted and Yoochun let him go. The door shut behind him.
Yoochun was out of ideas. He went home and had to keep from drinking himself into a stupor. He worked on his drunken song, and scribbled In the Whiskey Glass at the top of it.
He woke up with a headache and a backache and with the indentations of piano keys on his cheek. After a quick shower, he headed to the school. An accident blocked up traffic and he was ten minutes late to his lesson with Yuri. Yoochun had mentioned to Yuri about playing a compilation of jazz music at the recital and she jumped at the chance, choosing Billie Holiday’s love-aching songs. She was still working through a few chords on “I Can’t Believe You’re In Love with Me,” when Jaejoong showed up.
Yoochun stared at him. Jaejoong wore loose, pale blue jeans, well worn and comfortable. A chain hung in a pocket, attached to a black belt. His t-shirt was tight, deep red with some black swirls over his chest. He wore Yoochun’s hoody, and Yoochun hadn’t realized he’d taken it.
“Hi, Jaejoong,” Yuri said brightly.
He smiled and said hello, and then just at the right time, he started singing the lyrics to the song. Eyes on Yoochun’s.
Your eyes so blue
Your kisses too
I never knew what they could do
I can't believe you're in love with me
You're telling everyone I know
I'm on your mind each place you go
They can't believe that you're in love with me
I have always placed you far above me
I just can't image that you love me
And after all is said and done
It looks like I'm the lucky one
I can't believe you're in love with me
At the end of the song Yuri applauded Jaejoong, and he smiled and applauded her, saying “Brava” in a fake French accent that had Yuri giggling.
“Good job, Yuri,” Yoochun said. “You’re almost set.”
“I’ll practice really hard,” she promised. She gathered her things and bowed and said goodbye.
The door shut behind her, and Yoochun moved to Jaejoong immediately. Jaejoong was wearing sunglasses inside again. Yoochun touched his cheek and then took off the glasses before Jaejoong could stop him.
“Hyung!” he shouted and turned his head, but not before Yoochun saw the unconcealable bruise around his swollen -hut eye.
“Who is doing this to you?” Yoochun whispered, letting his fingers brush Jaejoong’s cheek.
His lower lip wavered and then he held his hand out. Yoochun gave him the glasses back and they went right on his face again. He brushed past Yoochun and started playing Billie Holiday’s “You Don’t Know What Love Is”.
Yoochun sat on a chair near the piano, keeping his distance. He waited until Jaejoong finished that song before talking.
“So what are you going to do for your recital?”
Jaejoong flinched.
“You don’t want to talk about what’s going on in your life,” Yoochun said, “so we’ll talk about your musical choice. Programs are being printed on Monday. So I need to know.”
Jaejoong nodded, and then pulled out his notebook. He ripped a piece of paper from it and said, “This.”
Yoochun took it and it was what he suggested: six songs by Louis Armstrong. “Play it.”
Jaejoong played. Yoochun noticed there were new cuts on his knuckles, and the thought of Jaejoong fighting back left a mixed feeling in his heart. He was glad that the kid wasn’t just letting whoever do this to him, but that probably meant the bruises and cuts were worse.
“Your mom called me,” Yoochun said, and Jaejoong hit a wrong note. “She isn’t coming to your recital, like you said, but she said one of your sisters will. I didn’t know that you lived with your sister.”
“Yeah, well, my mom is never home.”
“Is Gilin married?”
“Yes.” His voice lowered with pain at that one word.
“Kids?”
He shook his head. “I thought we weren’t talking about my personal life.”
“I lied. Have you seen Yunho this week?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Absolute jealous rage is what it is to me.”
Jaejoong snorted as he moved into a different song, but Yoochun wasn’t paying that much attention to his playing.
“Yes. I have. So what?”
Yoochun put his elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He let out a frustrated breath.
“Did you hear me ask you to save me, hyung?”
“No,” Yoochun said and stood up. He paced just behind the piano. “You’ll end up just like Yunho or dead if you don’t stop doing cocaine.”
“You turned out alright.”
“Because someone saved me,” Yoochun whispered.
“Who saved you?”
Yoochun sighed. “I told you. A family friend.”
“Lie,” Jaejoong sang.
Yoochun ignored it. “I didn’t listen to him for a long time. He offered … right when I left home, he offered to take me in, but I was stupid and young and thought I could survive on my own. The sooner you listen...”
Jaejoong slammed his keys on the piano. “Don’t fucking say it, hyung. I listen to adults that know what’s best for me all fucking day long, and what has it given me, huh?”
“Jaej--”
“Shut up, hyung. Just … just let me play.” He started right where he left off and continued playing.
Yoochun sighed. Jaejoong was right. The adults in his life hadn’t done much for him, at least, not from Jaejoong’s point of view. His father was never around, Yunho fucked him in exchange for drugs, and even Yoochun was guilty of using him. Yoochun stood behind Jaejoong and brushed fingers through his hair. Jaejoong huffed in irritation and yanked his head away.
Yoochun smiled at the top of his head and then bent down a pressed a kiss to his hair. He smelled like citrus today. He left Jaejoong alone and then went to his desk. He had to have the final timeline for performances turned in the next day.
Jaejoong didn’t stop playing until his lesson was up.
“Come home with me,” Yoochun said, almost begging.
Jaejoong sighed as he gathered his things.
“Please,” Yoochun whispered.
“I …” Jaejoong pouted. He took out his phone and leaned against the side of the piano while his fingers flew over the buttons. “Why?” he said as he frowned at his phone.
“I want you to.”
Jaejoong looked at him. “You want me to so you know where I am, or you want me to so you can tease me and not fuck me and be a little prudish, blushing virgin?”
Yoochun opened his mouth and then shut it.
“Will you fuck me?” Jaejoong said.
Yoochun didn’t need the sunglasses to be removed to know how cold those eyes were.
“If your answer is yes, then my answer is yes.”
“I can’t do that, Jaejoong.”
Jaejoong smirked. “Life is all about give and take, hyung. You want something, you have to give something. I’ve learned that. I would have thought that you had. See you on Monday.”
Jaejoong slipped headphones over his ears. The jeans sagged dangerously low on his hips. He was wearing black boxer briefs.
Yoochun held his breath until the door shut. He went to the piano, slammed a high key and then gathered up his things. He went home and paced around his apartment.
Frustrated didn’t begin to explain how he was feeling.
Yoochun opened his phone, stared at a number and then after a few minutes of debate, he hit the send button. He waited, breathless, through five rings before someone finally picked up.
“What do you want?”
Yoochun almost cried in relief. “Hello to you too, Changmin-shi.”
“You only call me when you need something. What do you need?”
“Advice.”
“On?”
“Stubborn teenager destroying himself in sex and drugs.”
Changmin remained quiet. “Ah, so you finally know what it’s like to see someone you care for slowly waste away before your eyes.”
“I’m learning, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Tell me about him.”
Yoochun told Changmin everything. Everything because Changmin would understand.
Changmin sighed and said, “I think you’ve done all you can, Yoochun-ah. You only have to wait for him to come to you now.”
“But what if it’s too late?”
“Then it’s too late.”
Yoochun sat on his couch hard. After a moment and a deep sigh, he said, “Have I ever thanked you?”
He could imagine Changmin’s smile. “Yes, dongsaeng, you have. Have I ever apologized to you?”
Yoochun nodded, saying nothing into the phone.
“So other than this boy who you’re inexcusably infatuated with, what else is going on in your life?”
Yoochun told Changmin about his other students, and about their recital. “You should come,” he said. “It’d be good to see you again.” Long ago memories of long limbs wrapped around Yoochun’s waist filled his mind.
“You need to get laid,” Changmin said.
“Hyung!” Yoochun shouted.
“Not from Jaejoong. He’s just a boy. I meant in general.”
“Are you offering yourself?”
“Um, no. Been there, done that. You need a boyfriend, Chunnie, not someone who fucks your ass and leaves you.”
“You didn’t leave me after fucking my ass.”
“No. You left me.”
“Right.”
“Sunday, come over. No excuses. We’ll play together again.”
“Okay.”
“And with Jaejoong, just … don’t … I don’t know. With you, I … I let you know I’d always be there, and then I was always there. Don’t break your promises.”
“I won’t. Thanks, hyung.”
Yoochun hung up. He got up only long enough to get a glass of scotch and then decided that he’d take the bottle. He sat back down on the couch and took a few deep swallows. Getting drunk didn’t seem like it was a good idea. Reluctantly, he went to his piano and worked on “In the Whiskey”.
In the whiskey, there is peace
light reflecting in its folds
whiskey colored reflections show
pain and tears and cold
your eyes are golden amber
full of erotic love
your face is gutter broken
full of accusing pain
let me help you in your game
let me help you to explain
what’s buried in the whiskey
let me pour another shot
let me try to find your heart
where it’s buried in the whiskey
Someone knocked on his door. Yoochun jerked alert, and then the pounding came again. He stood up, back aching from sitting at the piano so long. The night out his windows was dark, deep. He moved across the room as his visitor knocked again.
“Hang on,” he said, exasperated.
“Huurrrrryyyyy.”
Yoochun stopped for a moment in surprise and then flung the door open, revealing Jaejoong.
“Oh, god, finally, I have to fucking pee.” Jaejoong pushed past him, dropped his bag and stumbled through the apartment.
He smelled a mixture of strong alcohol and come and Yoochun made a face. He shut his door and remembered a similar moment when he’d barrelled into Changmin’s house unannounced and threw up all over his date’s shoes.
“Take a shower while you’re in there,” Yoochun shouted to him.
A few moments later, Jaejoong crawled out of the bathroom, moaning. Yoochun kneeled next to him.
“What are you on?”
Jaejoong’s eyes shut and tried to focus on Yoochun. His pupils were so wide. Nothing but black.
“Light too bright,” he said.
“What are you on?” Yoochun repeated.
Jaejoong moaned and poked his shoulder. “Stop shouting, what are you on, fuck, what am I on, what are you on and why are we on anywhere, and who the hell put us here? I’ll tell you who. Siwon. Siwon fucker put us there.”
“Who’s Siwon?” Yoochun asked.
Jaejoong used the wall to crawl to his feet. “Fucker. That’s who.”
He pushed away from the wall and tripped. Yoochun twisted and caught him just before he smashed into the floor.
“Siwon asshole Siwon fucker. I should write a song about that.”
“Jaejoong.”
“Hyung.” Jaejoong’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.
“Who’s Siwon?”
“Don’t care,” Jaejoong said and frowned.
Yoochun sighed and held Jaejoong against his chest.
“I need to throw up,” Jaejoong said, “but I can’t throw up because I already threw up and I can’t eat because then I’ll throw up and I already threw up.”
Yoochun managed to stand up, Jaejoong clinging to him, but barely. His fingers were jerking all over, eyes wide open then shut, nose scrunching up.
“Cocaine tonight?” Yoochun asked, directing him to his room.
Jaejoong smiled and nodded. “Yep, yep. You got any?”
“No. Sorry.”
“You should have some. If you’re going to be my friend, then you should have some, because cocaine is fucking awesome.”
“How’s Yunho tonight?”
“Dunno. Didn’t see him.”
Jaejoong jerked out of his arms and fell onto the bed on his back.
“Who did you get cocaine from?”
“DoooooooooongHaeeeeeeeee. He’s so cute. Only Yunho’s fucks him so, he fucked me too, just like Yunho does, but his dick was tiny.” Jaejoong held up two fingers just barely together.
“God, please tell me you used a condom.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“Was this guy Siwon there, too?”
Jaejoong smacked his lips, made a face and shook his head. “Nope. Siwon is an asshole. He doesn’t let me come.”
“Who is Siwon, Jaejoong?”
“God, fuck off!” he shouted, black eyes wild. “I don’t want to talk about Siwon.” He pulled his shirt over his head, tearing it, and then rolled onto his stomach. “Go away now. Leave me alone.”
Yoochun sighed. Even in the dark light he could see the bruises on Jaejoong’s back. “Okay. I’ll be right out in the living room if you need me.”
“Don’t need nobody,” he whispered.
Yoochun went back to his piano and his incomplete lyrics. He sighed, and played something else, anything else. He wished he could get lost in the music like Jaejoong could, but he tried to make songs, tried to make music. Maybe that was Jaejoong’s secret. He didn’t play to make music. He let the music make itself.
Yoochun forgot about key, forgot about rhythm and note choice. He let his fingers free, and then his mind caught on, and his mind followed the notes and the melodies and the refrains, but his fingers carried the music.
Cool skin pressed against his side, and Yoochun looked over quickly. Jaejoong didn’t meet his eyes. Yoochun lifted a hand from the piano and wrapped it around Jaejoong. He curled up in Yoochun’s lap, and Yoochun reached around him to keep playing. Wet seeped into his shirt as Jaejoong’s body shook.
A few minutes later, Jaejoong lifted his head, eyes on the keys and Yoochun’s slow moving fingers. He put one bruised and shaking hand to the piano and added chords to Yoochun’s melody. Yoochun smiled. Jaejoong was so talented. He leaned his head down, pressed their cheeks together.
“Feeling better?”
“Sober is better?” Jaejoong whispered.
“Yes. When you can control it.”
“It’s easier to not control it.”
“Right now, yes. Forever? It won’t be.”
“You’re a good musician, Yoochun.”
Yoochun smiled. “So are you.”
“C-can you come and lay down with me again?”
Yoochun chuckled. “Only if you go shower first.”
Jaejoong sniffed his arm and made a face. “Good idea.”
“Go on. I’ll be in bed waiting for you.”
“T-thanks, hyung.”
Part 8: Sexy Jeans
Part 6: Same Jeans
Part 5: Broken Chords
Part 4: Tattered Jeans
Part 3: Shaken Chords
Part 2: Holey Jeans
Part 1: Common Chords
.
Pairing: Yoochun/Jaejoong (implied Yunho/Jaejoong)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I would teach them how to play *pervs*
Summary: Yoochun is a piano instructor for children of the elite. When a bonafide prodigy lands on his piano bench, Yoochun falls hard
Warning: Underage sex. Yoochun is 24, Jaejoong is 15. Drug use, physical abuse (NOT Yoochun beating Jaejoong)
Poster credit goes to crazyaboutchun. Thank you darling! I love it! ♥
Part 7:
Click to viewJaejoong said nothing to him on Wednesday. Yoochun could not tell if there were new bruises on his face, but his hands shook, like he hadn’t slept, or like he was coming down from a high.
For the first time since class started, Jaejoong hit sour notes on the piano when he played at the end of class.
“You alright?” Yoochun asked as soon as the girls were gone (Jaelin shot him worried glances as she left).
Jaejoong lowered his head and nodded. “F-fine.”
“Are you coming to your lesson tomorrow?”
“Y-yes.”
“Okay.”
When Jaejoong stood up, Yoochun bit back a noise of surprise. It was the first time he’d ever seen Jaejoong not get an erection from playing the piano. Jaejoong’s breath wheezed in and out of his mouth, and he hurried to his desk for his bag. Yoochun sighed.
“Jaejoong,” he said as the boy hurried to the door. He stopped, shoulders tensing.
Yoochun stood up and moved to him. He hugged him from behind, the first contact they had since Monday. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I always do. No one else cares.” Jaejoong twisted and Yoochun let him go. The door shut behind him.
Yoochun was out of ideas. He went home and had to keep from drinking himself into a stupor. He worked on his drunken song, and scribbled In the Whiskey Glass at the top of it.
He woke up with a headache and a backache and with the indentations of piano keys on his cheek. After a quick shower, he headed to the school. An accident blocked up traffic and he was ten minutes late to his lesson with Yuri. Yoochun had mentioned to Yuri about playing a compilation of jazz music at the recital and she jumped at the chance, choosing Billie Holiday’s love-aching songs. She was still working through a few chords on “I Can’t Believe You’re In Love with Me,” when Jaejoong showed up.
Yoochun stared at him. Jaejoong wore loose, pale blue jeans, well worn and comfortable. A chain hung in a pocket, attached to a black belt. His t-shirt was tight, deep red with some black swirls over his chest. He wore Yoochun’s hoody, and Yoochun hadn’t realized he’d taken it.
“Hi, Jaejoong,” Yuri said brightly.
He smiled and said hello, and then just at the right time, he started singing the lyrics to the song. Eyes on Yoochun’s.
Your eyes so blue
Your kisses too
I never knew what they could do
I can't believe you're in love with me
You're telling everyone I know
I'm on your mind each place you go
They can't believe that you're in love with me
I have always placed you far above me
I just can't image that you love me
And after all is said and done
It looks like I'm the lucky one
I can't believe you're in love with me
At the end of the song Yuri applauded Jaejoong, and he smiled and applauded her, saying “Brava” in a fake French accent that had Yuri giggling.
“Good job, Yuri,” Yoochun said. “You’re almost set.”
“I’ll practice really hard,” she promised. She gathered her things and bowed and said goodbye.
The door shut behind her, and Yoochun moved to Jaejoong immediately. Jaejoong was wearing sunglasses inside again. Yoochun touched his cheek and then took off the glasses before Jaejoong could stop him.
“Hyung!” he shouted and turned his head, but not before Yoochun saw the unconcealable bruise around his swollen -hut eye.
“Who is doing this to you?” Yoochun whispered, letting his fingers brush Jaejoong’s cheek.
His lower lip wavered and then he held his hand out. Yoochun gave him the glasses back and they went right on his face again. He brushed past Yoochun and started playing Billie Holiday’s “You Don’t Know What Love Is”.
Yoochun sat on a chair near the piano, keeping his distance. He waited until Jaejoong finished that song before talking.
“So what are you going to do for your recital?”
Jaejoong flinched.
“You don’t want to talk about what’s going on in your life,” Yoochun said, “so we’ll talk about your musical choice. Programs are being printed on Monday. So I need to know.”
Jaejoong nodded, and then pulled out his notebook. He ripped a piece of paper from it and said, “This.”
Yoochun took it and it was what he suggested: six songs by Louis Armstrong. “Play it.”
Jaejoong played. Yoochun noticed there were new cuts on his knuckles, and the thought of Jaejoong fighting back left a mixed feeling in his heart. He was glad that the kid wasn’t just letting whoever do this to him, but that probably meant the bruises and cuts were worse.
“Your mom called me,” Yoochun said, and Jaejoong hit a wrong note. “She isn’t coming to your recital, like you said, but she said one of your sisters will. I didn’t know that you lived with your sister.”
“Yeah, well, my mom is never home.”
“Is Gilin married?”
“Yes.” His voice lowered with pain at that one word.
“Kids?”
He shook his head. “I thought we weren’t talking about my personal life.”
“I lied. Have you seen Yunho this week?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Absolute jealous rage is what it is to me.”
Jaejoong snorted as he moved into a different song, but Yoochun wasn’t paying that much attention to his playing.
“Yes. I have. So what?”
Yoochun put his elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He let out a frustrated breath.
“Did you hear me ask you to save me, hyung?”
“No,” Yoochun said and stood up. He paced just behind the piano. “You’ll end up just like Yunho or dead if you don’t stop doing cocaine.”
“You turned out alright.”
“Because someone saved me,” Yoochun whispered.
“Who saved you?”
Yoochun sighed. “I told you. A family friend.”
“Lie,” Jaejoong sang.
Yoochun ignored it. “I didn’t listen to him for a long time. He offered … right when I left home, he offered to take me in, but I was stupid and young and thought I could survive on my own. The sooner you listen...”
Jaejoong slammed his keys on the piano. “Don’t fucking say it, hyung. I listen to adults that know what’s best for me all fucking day long, and what has it given me, huh?”
“Jaej--”
“Shut up, hyung. Just … just let me play.” He started right where he left off and continued playing.
Yoochun sighed. Jaejoong was right. The adults in his life hadn’t done much for him, at least, not from Jaejoong’s point of view. His father was never around, Yunho fucked him in exchange for drugs, and even Yoochun was guilty of using him. Yoochun stood behind Jaejoong and brushed fingers through his hair. Jaejoong huffed in irritation and yanked his head away.
Yoochun smiled at the top of his head and then bent down a pressed a kiss to his hair. He smelled like citrus today. He left Jaejoong alone and then went to his desk. He had to have the final timeline for performances turned in the next day.
Jaejoong didn’t stop playing until his lesson was up.
“Come home with me,” Yoochun said, almost begging.
Jaejoong sighed as he gathered his things.
“Please,” Yoochun whispered.
“I …” Jaejoong pouted. He took out his phone and leaned against the side of the piano while his fingers flew over the buttons. “Why?” he said as he frowned at his phone.
“I want you to.”
Jaejoong looked at him. “You want me to so you know where I am, or you want me to so you can tease me and not fuck me and be a little prudish, blushing virgin?”
Yoochun opened his mouth and then shut it.
“Will you fuck me?” Jaejoong said.
Yoochun didn’t need the sunglasses to be removed to know how cold those eyes were.
“If your answer is yes, then my answer is yes.”
“I can’t do that, Jaejoong.”
Jaejoong smirked. “Life is all about give and take, hyung. You want something, you have to give something. I’ve learned that. I would have thought that you had. See you on Monday.”
Jaejoong slipped headphones over his ears. The jeans sagged dangerously low on his hips. He was wearing black boxer briefs.
Yoochun held his breath until the door shut. He went to the piano, slammed a high key and then gathered up his things. He went home and paced around his apartment.
Frustrated didn’t begin to explain how he was feeling.
Yoochun opened his phone, stared at a number and then after a few minutes of debate, he hit the send button. He waited, breathless, through five rings before someone finally picked up.
“What do you want?”
Yoochun almost cried in relief. “Hello to you too, Changmin-shi.”
“You only call me when you need something. What do you need?”
“Advice.”
“On?”
“Stubborn teenager destroying himself in sex and drugs.”
Changmin remained quiet. “Ah, so you finally know what it’s like to see someone you care for slowly waste away before your eyes.”
“I’m learning, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Tell me about him.”
Yoochun told Changmin everything. Everything because Changmin would understand.
Changmin sighed and said, “I think you’ve done all you can, Yoochun-ah. You only have to wait for him to come to you now.”
“But what if it’s too late?”
“Then it’s too late.”
Yoochun sat on his couch hard. After a moment and a deep sigh, he said, “Have I ever thanked you?”
He could imagine Changmin’s smile. “Yes, dongsaeng, you have. Have I ever apologized to you?”
Yoochun nodded, saying nothing into the phone.
“So other than this boy who you’re inexcusably infatuated with, what else is going on in your life?”
Yoochun told Changmin about his other students, and about their recital. “You should come,” he said. “It’d be good to see you again.” Long ago memories of long limbs wrapped around Yoochun’s waist filled his mind.
“You need to get laid,” Changmin said.
“Hyung!” Yoochun shouted.
“Not from Jaejoong. He’s just a boy. I meant in general.”
“Are you offering yourself?”
“Um, no. Been there, done that. You need a boyfriend, Chunnie, not someone who fucks your ass and leaves you.”
“You didn’t leave me after fucking my ass.”
“No. You left me.”
“Right.”
“Sunday, come over. No excuses. We’ll play together again.”
“Okay.”
“And with Jaejoong, just … don’t … I don’t know. With you, I … I let you know I’d always be there, and then I was always there. Don’t break your promises.”
“I won’t. Thanks, hyung.”
Yoochun hung up. He got up only long enough to get a glass of scotch and then decided that he’d take the bottle. He sat back down on the couch and took a few deep swallows. Getting drunk didn’t seem like it was a good idea. Reluctantly, he went to his piano and worked on “In the Whiskey”.
In the whiskey, there is peace
light reflecting in its folds
whiskey colored reflections show
pain and tears and cold
your eyes are golden amber
full of erotic love
your face is gutter broken
full of accusing pain
let me help you in your game
let me help you to explain
what’s buried in the whiskey
let me pour another shot
let me try to find your heart
where it’s buried in the whiskey
Someone knocked on his door. Yoochun jerked alert, and then the pounding came again. He stood up, back aching from sitting at the piano so long. The night out his windows was dark, deep. He moved across the room as his visitor knocked again.
“Hang on,” he said, exasperated.
“Huurrrrryyyyy.”
Yoochun stopped for a moment in surprise and then flung the door open, revealing Jaejoong.
“Oh, god, finally, I have to fucking pee.” Jaejoong pushed past him, dropped his bag and stumbled through the apartment.
He smelled a mixture of strong alcohol and come and Yoochun made a face. He shut his door and remembered a similar moment when he’d barrelled into Changmin’s house unannounced and threw up all over his date’s shoes.
“Take a shower while you’re in there,” Yoochun shouted to him.
A few moments later, Jaejoong crawled out of the bathroom, moaning. Yoochun kneeled next to him.
“What are you on?”
Jaejoong’s eyes shut and tried to focus on Yoochun. His pupils were so wide. Nothing but black.
“Light too bright,” he said.
“What are you on?” Yoochun repeated.
Jaejoong moaned and poked his shoulder. “Stop shouting, what are you on, fuck, what am I on, what are you on and why are we on anywhere, and who the hell put us here? I’ll tell you who. Siwon. Siwon fucker put us there.”
“Who’s Siwon?” Yoochun asked.
Jaejoong used the wall to crawl to his feet. “Fucker. That’s who.”
He pushed away from the wall and tripped. Yoochun twisted and caught him just before he smashed into the floor.
“Siwon asshole Siwon fucker. I should write a song about that.”
“Jaejoong.”
“Hyung.” Jaejoong’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.
“Who’s Siwon?”
“Don’t care,” Jaejoong said and frowned.
Yoochun sighed and held Jaejoong against his chest.
“I need to throw up,” Jaejoong said, “but I can’t throw up because I already threw up and I can’t eat because then I’ll throw up and I already threw up.”
Yoochun managed to stand up, Jaejoong clinging to him, but barely. His fingers were jerking all over, eyes wide open then shut, nose scrunching up.
“Cocaine tonight?” Yoochun asked, directing him to his room.
Jaejoong smiled and nodded. “Yep, yep. You got any?”
“No. Sorry.”
“You should have some. If you’re going to be my friend, then you should have some, because cocaine is fucking awesome.”
“How’s Yunho tonight?”
“Dunno. Didn’t see him.”
Jaejoong jerked out of his arms and fell onto the bed on his back.
“Who did you get cocaine from?”
“DoooooooooongHaeeeeeeeee. He’s so cute. Only Yunho’s fucks him so, he fucked me too, just like Yunho does, but his dick was tiny.” Jaejoong held up two fingers just barely together.
“God, please tell me you used a condom.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“Was this guy Siwon there, too?”
Jaejoong smacked his lips, made a face and shook his head. “Nope. Siwon is an asshole. He doesn’t let me come.”
“Who is Siwon, Jaejoong?”
“God, fuck off!” he shouted, black eyes wild. “I don’t want to talk about Siwon.” He pulled his shirt over his head, tearing it, and then rolled onto his stomach. “Go away now. Leave me alone.”
Yoochun sighed. Even in the dark light he could see the bruises on Jaejoong’s back. “Okay. I’ll be right out in the living room if you need me.”
“Don’t need nobody,” he whispered.
Yoochun went back to his piano and his incomplete lyrics. He sighed, and played something else, anything else. He wished he could get lost in the music like Jaejoong could, but he tried to make songs, tried to make music. Maybe that was Jaejoong’s secret. He didn’t play to make music. He let the music make itself.
Yoochun forgot about key, forgot about rhythm and note choice. He let his fingers free, and then his mind caught on, and his mind followed the notes and the melodies and the refrains, but his fingers carried the music.
Cool skin pressed against his side, and Yoochun looked over quickly. Jaejoong didn’t meet his eyes. Yoochun lifted a hand from the piano and wrapped it around Jaejoong. He curled up in Yoochun’s lap, and Yoochun reached around him to keep playing. Wet seeped into his shirt as Jaejoong’s body shook.
A few minutes later, Jaejoong lifted his head, eyes on the keys and Yoochun’s slow moving fingers. He put one bruised and shaking hand to the piano and added chords to Yoochun’s melody. Yoochun smiled. Jaejoong was so talented. He leaned his head down, pressed their cheeks together.
“Feeling better?”
“Sober is better?” Jaejoong whispered.
“Yes. When you can control it.”
“It’s easier to not control it.”
“Right now, yes. Forever? It won’t be.”
“You’re a good musician, Yoochun.”
Yoochun smiled. “So are you.”
“C-can you come and lay down with me again?”
Yoochun chuckled. “Only if you go shower first.”
Jaejoong sniffed his arm and made a face. “Good idea.”
“Go on. I’ll be in bed waiting for you.”
“T-thanks, hyung.”
Part 8: Sexy Jeans
Part 6: Same Jeans
Part 5: Broken Chords
Part 4: Tattered Jeans
Part 3: Shaken Chords
Part 2: Holey Jeans
Part 1: Common Chords
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