Delicate 4/?
Title: Delicate 4/?
Pairing: Yoochun/Junsu
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They aren't my pets or my toys or my slaves and that is so unfortunate.
Summary: Yoochun's eccentric uncle passes away and leaves Yoochun his pet and money to take care of it. But the pet isn't anything Yoochun is expecting, and suddenly he has to figure out how to help someone else while his own life is a fucking mess.
Warning: implied abuse, slavery, and pedophilia. Both Yoochun and Junsu are 27 when this fic starts This fic isn't really angsty. I mean ... it's going to be emotional, but it's going to have a happy ending.
A/N: This fic is for willowwing, baileymoyes and xtooline because they are awesome and I love them!
Poster credit goes to back-to-five!! It's gorgeous! <3
Part 4:
Yoochun jerked alert at a crash against his wall and a loud, muffled shout of “Fucking cunt!”
“God,” Yoochun moaned and twisted.
But there was a weight on him, and he looked down. The lights from the television brightened Junsu’s pink hair. Yoochun smiled, and then realized they were curled together on the couch, legs wrapped together. Junsu’s face pressed against his chest, mouth open a little bit.
He looked over to his bed and saw the red glow of his alarm clock. It was almost midnight. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but at least his schedule wouldn’t be too skewed.
Yoochun lifted a hand and ran his fingers through Junsu’s hair before he could stop himself.
Junsu shifted in his sleep, turning his head the other way.
Yoochun wanted to get up but didn’t want to wake Junsu up. But his fingers did not stop, and Junsu slowly woke up, shifting enough that Yoochun felt pleasure twisting up his spine. A boner right now would lead to something that Yoochun couldn’t handle.
Junsu blinked, eyes slowly opening. He murmured something, rubbing his face on Yoochun’s chest. His hands pushed further into the couch, fingers gripping Yoochun’s side with one hand, and his chest with the other. Yoochun let himself relax and he smiled, still running his hands through Junsu’s hair until he was awake, his breathing changing. He did not lift his head and his body stiffened. But when Yoochun said nothing, Junsu relaxed, too.
The moment was spoiled at angry shouts and something shattering next door.
Junsu moaned. “Have you ever banged on the wall and told them to shut up?”
“Yeah, but then he just hits her harder for disturbing the neighbors.”
Junsu frowned and tilted his head up, chin digging into his sternum. “Called the police?”
“Tons of times, but she always goes back to him.”
Junsu shut his eyes. He sighed and pushed himself up away from him. He rubbed his arms. Yoochun reached over and rubbed his elbow. They listened to the shouts from next door.
“Love,” Junsu said. “She loves him.”
“He doesn’t love her.”
“To her, he does. She goes back because he loves her, in her mind.”
Yoochun opened his mouth to argue, and then shut it with a sigh. “You don’t get it.”
Junsu looked over at him, their eyes meeting in the dim light from the city. “Don’t I?”
And Yoochun understood that maybe Junsu did get it. “If my uncle wasn’t dead, would you go back to him?”
“If your uncle wasn’t dead, I wouldn’t have left in the first place.”
That was not the answer that Yoochun wanted.
Junsu smiled. “You can’t live in the past,” he whispered. “I know that. I had to make peace with my present when I was eleven years old. Otherwise I would have gone insane. I liked being with your uncle, like I said, he was good to me, even if you don’t believe that. But I like being with you, too. I like the world outside even if it’s scary. It’s a new experience. I can’t think of what happened before, only about what is happening now.”
Yoochun looked away, dismissing his words even as they ringed true in his brain. It was hard to let go of the pain, the memories. The love.
Yoochun understood because he would go back. In a heartbeat, he would go back.
He blinked back the sudden welling of tears and cleared his throat. He pulled himself away from Junsu and stood up, stalking to the window. Lighting a cigarette, he watched Junsu from the corner of his eyes as he went into the bathroom.
He blew out a harsh inhale and tried not to think about Jaejoong.
“Y-yoo-yoochun-ah?” Junsu whispered.
Yoochun turned his head, but his image blurred behind another cloud of smoke. “What?”
“I-I’m hungry, and you said you-you would show me how to make ramen.”
Yoochun sighed and nodded. “Yeah, let me finish this. Get out the pot I have that’s in the cupboard and fill it with water. Turn on the cooktop. Number eight.”
“O-okay.”
Yoochun did not watch him and finished his cigarette.
“Now what?” Junsu asked when Yoochun got up. He walked to the kitchen and double checked everything.
“Now we wait until the water boils. It usually takes about five minutes. As soon as the water is boiling, we’ll put the ramen in and cook it.”
“Okay.” Junsu bit his lip and glanced up at him before looking away. “I’m sorry if what I said upset you.”
“Don’t apologize,” Yoochun said immediately.
Junsu scowled at him. “Not like that. I ... I like you. I shouldn’t upset you.”
“Still, it isn’t your fault I have issues.”
Junsu moved closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Yoochun shoved away from the counter. And him. “No.” He went back to the couch, intent on brooding, but Junsu sat next to him, a book in his hands. It was one of the children’s books of the alphabet, for Junsu to learn to write and read.
“You’ll help me?” Junsu whispered.
Yoochun nodded. He shut his eyes for long enough to push the demons away. He started with the consonants, helping Junsu put a character to the sound he made when he talked. He heard water boiling behind them, stopped the lesson to show Junsu how to break the ramen up a little and put it in the water. While their dinner (or was it breakfast, Yoochun could never tell with his schedule) cooked, Junsu picked up a pencil and practiced writing in the books Yoochun bought. They ate the ramen, Junsu struggling a bit with the chopsticks. Yoochun did the dishes.
When he was done, Yoochun went back to the couch. Junsu was sitting, flipping through a book.
“That book is in English,” Yoochun said. “You learned another language? Fuck, how long was I doing dishes?”
Junsu laughed, pulling the book up and covering his face so only his happy eyes could be seen. “The hearts are cute. I want to read it.”
Yoochun smiled and sat next to him.
“Will you read it to me?”
“In English?”
“You can translate it.”
“It’s about love.”
“Good,” Junsu said and curled up against Yoochun’s side, arms wrapped around his waist, just like the night before.
Yoochun shifted, but cleared his throat and started reading, first in English and then translating into Korean. It was a cute book, one with really short stories about love connected to an English word. It was why Yoochun bought it, to learn some different words than he was used to. He hadn’t even thought he would be reading a book about love to Junsu.
After a few pages, Junsu asked, “Where did you learn English?”
“My family lived in America for a little while.”
“Oh.” Junsu looked up at him. “You said that in the same ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ voice that you used to talk about your tattoo.”
Yoochun smiled tightly and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Keep reading!”
Yoochun kept reading. When he finished the book, almost two hours later, Junsu looked exhausted.
“You should sleep if you’re tired,” Yoochun whispered, fingers running through Junsu’s pink hair without his permission.
Junsu yawned. “I want ... I don’t want to mess up your schedule.”
“It’s going to take you more than a couple days to do that.”
“I know, but--” he broke off to yawn again.
Yoochun laughed and shifted to get up.
Junsu tightened his hold around his body and actually pouted up at him. “Are you getting up?”
“Yes. You can go sleep in the bed.”
“But this is comfortable. Are you uncomfortable?”
Yoochun met his eyes, deciding what to say. The truth or a lie? With Junsu staring at him with such wide, open, dark, beautiful eyes, lying was much harder than the truth.
“Yes, but only because I like it,” he finally said.
Junsu’s smile widened. “Then don’t get up since we both like it.”
“Look, Junsu--”
“No,” Junsu said, trying to burrow deeper into his chest.
Yoochun sighed and relaxed, one hand landing on Junsu’s shoulder, the other continued to card fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to be a replacement for my uncle, Junsu.”
Junsu lifted himself up quickly, eyes narrowed in the first sign of anger that Yoochun had seen from him. “If that is what I wanted, I’d be naked across your lap with you whipping me with a belt until I bled because if I ever, ever tried touching your uncle without permission, I was punished. You want to punish me for doing exactly what I want?”
“What? No, that’s not fair. I didn’t mean--”
“I know what you meant,” Junsu said and got off the couch. “If everything I do is going to seem like that, then ... well ... I won’t touch you anymore.”
Junsu practically threw himself on the bed, wrapped himself up in all of Yoochun’s blanket like a sushi roll, back to Yoochun.
Maybe lying had been the better option.
Yoochun sighed and stood up. He went to the dresser and grabbed his wallet, phone, cigarettes and keys. At the door, he slipped on a pair of flipflops, didn’t bother saying anything to Junsu, and left. He needed air. He needed to think. He needed to do something to stop his relationship with Junsu spiraling out of control. The guy had been a sex slave his entire life. How was Yoochun supposed to have a normal relationship with him? They really couldn’t, no matter how cute and adorable and nice and practically perfect Junsu was. It was Yoochun’s duty to make sure he learned about real life, learned how to read, learned how to function. Get a job. Move out.
Love was out of the question. For both of them.
Junsu needed to learn that love was not what his uncle did to him.
Yoochun thought he knew what love was, but the only man he had ever loved left him bitter and heartless. Emotionally destroyed. Living life from one shot glass to the next. Yoochun knew that blaming Jaejoong for his mental and emotional issues wasn’t fair. It took a long time for Yoochun to forgive him, to understand that Jaejoong leaving was better than Jaejoong lying to him and being outwardly perfect but miserable on the inside. He did not want Jaejoong to ever be miserable. And yet part of him wondered if Jaejoong had ever tried to forget him through too many bottles of soju.
Yoochun doubted it.
He slipped into the next club he found, set down roots at the bar, and drank until he managed to convince the gorgeous bartender to take him in the back and let him get on his knees.
----
Yoochun staggered home, one hand curled around a mostly empty bottle, the other scraping along buildings to stay upright. His mouth tasted of liquor, vomit and semen. And guilt. Guilt for something. Yoochun couldn’t really remember. Maybe another drink would help.
He crawled up the spinning stairs to his apartment. He forgot which floor. Tilted his head to see numbers. Six sounded right. Maybe it was six.
“Sex,” Yoochun mumbled. “Sex floor. Sex ...”
A muffled voice said something above him. Yoochun pried his eyes open. A neighbor. Maybe.
“Sex floor,” Yoochun said again.
The man laughed. Firm hands gripped under his arms and hauled him to his feet. Yoochun moaned, swallowing a mouthful of bile and saliva. His head swam.
“Drink much?”
“Not enough.”
“You drink a lot, Yoochun-shi.”
“I drink it because I can’t love it.”
“You should lock your door,” the man said, manhandling Yoochun through the door. “Oh, hi.”
Another voice said hello.
“I didn’t know Yoochun ... oh, I’ll just ...”
Yoochun squinted into his apartment. The person standing there had pink hair. Junsu.
“Junsu,” Yoochun mumbled.
“Yeah, hi, I’m ... I’m Junsu.”
“Hi, Junsu. I’m Seunghyun. I live next door. I thought Yoochun lived alone.”
“He does ... did,” Junsu said.
Yoochun swayed as he was transferred into arms. “Pretty,” he said, breath puffing on pink hair.
Seunghyun. Right. The sex neighbor.
Sex.
“Sex floor. Sex. Fuck.” Yoochun fell to his knees and threw up.
The next thing he remembered was a cool cloth rubbing over his arm and an annoyed voice calling him a drunken bastard. And light. Bright sunlight right in his face. He tried to roll over, but his stomach and his head protested.
Fuck, how much did he drink if he was so hungover with a headache?
“You are a drunken bastard,” the voice said again.
Yoochun agreed with it. He rolled the other way, jarring his body when his knees hit the ground. He shut his mouth tightly and crawled in the general direction of his bathroom. He heard huffing behind him, but ignored it. He curled an arm around the base of the toilet, the cool porcelain pressed against his cheek. For a moment only spit dripped into the bowl, and then Yoochun threw up again.
Soft fingers trailed up his back and moved sweaty hair off his clammy skin.
“Such a bastard.” The voice was less annoyed and more fondly exasperated.
Yoochun pried open an eye to look at blurry pink. “M’sorry, Su-su-ah. Sorry.”
Junsu pressed his lips together and nodded. “I’m not going to accept your apology until I know that you know what you’re apologizing for.”
Yoochun tried to reply to that and threw up again instead.
“Gross.” JUnsu turned and left the bathroom.
Yoochun tried to protest, but collapsed on the floor. He lay there until firm hands sat him up and he swallowed against more nausea. His head spun, his world darkened as his shirt was pulled off. He was already just in boxers, and a moment later, hands yanked those down too.
He toppled back and only didn’t smash his head into the floor by strong arms, catching him around his shoulders.
“Come on. On your feet.”
Yoochun staggered up, everything twisting around him. Junsu pushed him and manhandled him into the shower cubicle. The first splash of cold water tore a surprised yelp from Yoochun.
Junsu snorted and adjusted the temperature. He stood behind Yoochun and pushed him under the spray of water.
By the time he was over the shock, Junsu had a soapy washcloth in his hands, rubbing up and down Yoochun’s body.
Yoochun groaned and half-attempted to bat him away, feeling his cock twitch.
“Shut up,” Junsu said and roughly turned Yoochun around to wash his back. Yoochun leaned against the wall, hands limp at his sides, forehead against the cool tile.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
Junsu snorted. The washcloth landed on his shoulder. “You can do the rest yourself, I hope.”
The door opened, letting in a blast of cool air, and Yoochun shivered. He stood under the warm water for a little longer before grabbing the washcloth. But he could barely move and only halfheartedly washed himself. Moving was a bad idea anyway. He probably stood under the spray for ten minutes before the water went cold and he turned it off.
On the counter was a bottle of water and a few pills.
Yoochun smiled despite the pounding in his head. He rubbed a towel over him until he was mostly dry and then took the pills. He forgot about Junsu and walked out of the bathroom naked. Staggered. To the dresser. But it seemed like too much effort to actually get dressed and he fell to the bed instead. He climbed up and under the covers with a deep moan.
The room was dim, the blanket back over the window.
“Thank you,” Yoochun muttered to the general direction of the couch.
“You’re welcome,” came the reply right at his shoulder.
Yoochun turned his head too fast, shut his eyes with a moan, and pulled his pillow over his head.
“Dumbass,” Junsu said softly and rubbed his arm.
“Junsu, I--”
“Just sleep,” Junsu whispered. “You’re still mostly drunk.”
Yoochun grunted, but didn’t try to argue with that. His head was swimming and the room spun when he opened his eyes.
Yoochun woke up again, this time to the annoying beeping of his alarm. He moaned and tried to move to turn it off. But there was something against his body. Warm and heavy.
Fuck. Who did he fall into bed with?
Yoochun hated it when he couldn’t remember.
A strong arm reached across him and slapped the noise off.
Pink hair brushed his chin.
Yoochun suddenly felt wide awake, staring down at Junsu who was trying to cuddle and force his way deeper against Yoochun’s body. His very naked body. “Ten more minutes,” he mumbled.
Yoochun swallowed deeply and mentally cursed. He vaguely remembered coming home shitfaced. Throwing up. And Junsu. Cleaning him up. Taking care of him.
Yoochun shut his eyes with a deep sigh. Fuck.
“How’s your head?” Junsu muttered into his chest. Bare chest. Fucking hell.
Yoochun tried to get up. “Ouch.”
“You deserve it.”
“Yeah.”
Junsu shifted against him again, leg sliding up Yoochun’s. At least Junsu had clothes on.
Yoochun tried to relax and couldn’t.
Junsu huffed in annoyance, grabbed his wrist and flung it around his own shoulders. “Ten more minutes.”
But Yoochun could not relax, not knowing he was completely naked with a gorgeous man wrapped around his body. In his bed.
“If you huff one more time,” Junsu said darkly.
Yoochun chuckled and finally let himself relax, arms around Junsu’s shoulders. After another minute, he said, “I’m sorry for ... for ...”
Junsu lifted his head and an eyebrow. “For ...”
“I don’t even know,” Yoochun said.
Junsu propped up on an elbow. “How about for thinking that I want you to treat me like your uncle did?”
Yoochun nodded. “Yeah. For that.”
“For throwing up all over the floor and then passing out for six hours so I had to clean it up?”
“Definitely.”
“For denying that you like me.”
“I didn’t ...”
Junsu smiled. “Yes, you did.”
Yoochun frowned and shut his eyes. “This isn’t normal.”
“You’re gay, which you explained was not looked too kindly on by society. So not normal. I was a sex slave. Again, not normal. So we’re both not normal. Makes sense that nothing else we do is normal.”
Yoochun smiled and opened his eyes.
Junsu smiled back. “Let me explain something to you, Yoochun. I ... I was satisfied with my life because I didn’t know anything else existed for me. I learned to do what your uncle wanted with the least amount of resistance and the least amount of punishments. You’ve showed me that real life isn’t like this, and I’m learning what that means. I don’t want you to be like your uncle, and I don’t want to act like I did when I was with your uncle. It’s different now. I like you because you’re nice and you’re helping me. This doesn’t have to be anything else.”
“I want it to be something else,” Yoochun said, voice soft but rough. “God, sorry. Did I say that out loud?”
Junsu’s smile widened and then he laughed and fell back to Yoochun’s chest, arms wrapped around him, shoving under his body. “Let me understand what that means first.”
Yoochun hugged him. “Part of it is this,” he said. “Fuck, Junsu, I’m naked. Sharing a bed, cuddling, hugging. It’s ... it’s not what friends do.”
“It’s what we do,” Junsu said. “That’s all. No one else is here to say that it’s wrong.”
Yoochun thought about that for a little while. It was said with such innocence, but Yoochun could not argue with the logic. What he wanted with Junsu at that point was just a dream of a stable boyfriend. Someone to love. Someone to care for. Someone that wouldn’t break his heart.
But when Junsu learned more about the world, got a job, lost a bit of his innocence of society, there was no guarantee that he was going to be left with love.
Or even a friend.
Part 5: Lips
Part 3: Clothes
Part 2: Laughter
Part 1: Lace
.
Pairing: Yoochun/Junsu
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They aren't my pets or my toys or my slaves and that is so unfortunate.
Summary: Yoochun's eccentric uncle passes away and leaves Yoochun his pet and money to take care of it. But the pet isn't anything Yoochun is expecting, and suddenly he has to figure out how to help someone else while his own life is a fucking mess.
Warning: implied abuse, slavery, and pedophilia. Both Yoochun and Junsu are 27 when this fic starts This fic isn't really angsty. I mean ... it's going to be emotional, but it's going to have a happy ending.
A/N: This fic is for willowwing, baileymoyes and xtooline because they are awesome and I love them!
Poster credit goes to back-to-five!! It's gorgeous! <3
Part 4:
Yoochun jerked alert at a crash against his wall and a loud, muffled shout of “Fucking cunt!”
“God,” Yoochun moaned and twisted.
But there was a weight on him, and he looked down. The lights from the television brightened Junsu’s pink hair. Yoochun smiled, and then realized they were curled together on the couch, legs wrapped together. Junsu’s face pressed against his chest, mouth open a little bit.
He looked over to his bed and saw the red glow of his alarm clock. It was almost midnight. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but at least his schedule wouldn’t be too skewed.
Yoochun lifted a hand and ran his fingers through Junsu’s hair before he could stop himself.
Junsu shifted in his sleep, turning his head the other way.
Yoochun wanted to get up but didn’t want to wake Junsu up. But his fingers did not stop, and Junsu slowly woke up, shifting enough that Yoochun felt pleasure twisting up his spine. A boner right now would lead to something that Yoochun couldn’t handle.
Junsu blinked, eyes slowly opening. He murmured something, rubbing his face on Yoochun’s chest. His hands pushed further into the couch, fingers gripping Yoochun’s side with one hand, and his chest with the other. Yoochun let himself relax and he smiled, still running his hands through Junsu’s hair until he was awake, his breathing changing. He did not lift his head and his body stiffened. But when Yoochun said nothing, Junsu relaxed, too.
The moment was spoiled at angry shouts and something shattering next door.
Junsu moaned. “Have you ever banged on the wall and told them to shut up?”
“Yeah, but then he just hits her harder for disturbing the neighbors.”
Junsu frowned and tilted his head up, chin digging into his sternum. “Called the police?”
“Tons of times, but she always goes back to him.”
Junsu shut his eyes. He sighed and pushed himself up away from him. He rubbed his arms. Yoochun reached over and rubbed his elbow. They listened to the shouts from next door.
“Love,” Junsu said. “She loves him.”
“He doesn’t love her.”
“To her, he does. She goes back because he loves her, in her mind.”
Yoochun opened his mouth to argue, and then shut it with a sigh. “You don’t get it.”
Junsu looked over at him, their eyes meeting in the dim light from the city. “Don’t I?”
And Yoochun understood that maybe Junsu did get it. “If my uncle wasn’t dead, would you go back to him?”
“If your uncle wasn’t dead, I wouldn’t have left in the first place.”
That was not the answer that Yoochun wanted.
Junsu smiled. “You can’t live in the past,” he whispered. “I know that. I had to make peace with my present when I was eleven years old. Otherwise I would have gone insane. I liked being with your uncle, like I said, he was good to me, even if you don’t believe that. But I like being with you, too. I like the world outside even if it’s scary. It’s a new experience. I can’t think of what happened before, only about what is happening now.”
Yoochun looked away, dismissing his words even as they ringed true in his brain. It was hard to let go of the pain, the memories. The love.
Yoochun understood because he would go back. In a heartbeat, he would go back.
He blinked back the sudden welling of tears and cleared his throat. He pulled himself away from Junsu and stood up, stalking to the window. Lighting a cigarette, he watched Junsu from the corner of his eyes as he went into the bathroom.
He blew out a harsh inhale and tried not to think about Jaejoong.
“Y-yoo-yoochun-ah?” Junsu whispered.
Yoochun turned his head, but his image blurred behind another cloud of smoke. “What?”
“I-I’m hungry, and you said you-you would show me how to make ramen.”
Yoochun sighed and nodded. “Yeah, let me finish this. Get out the pot I have that’s in the cupboard and fill it with water. Turn on the cooktop. Number eight.”
“O-okay.”
Yoochun did not watch him and finished his cigarette.
“Now what?” Junsu asked when Yoochun got up. He walked to the kitchen and double checked everything.
“Now we wait until the water boils. It usually takes about five minutes. As soon as the water is boiling, we’ll put the ramen in and cook it.”
“Okay.” Junsu bit his lip and glanced up at him before looking away. “I’m sorry if what I said upset you.”
“Don’t apologize,” Yoochun said immediately.
Junsu scowled at him. “Not like that. I ... I like you. I shouldn’t upset you.”
“Still, it isn’t your fault I have issues.”
Junsu moved closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Yoochun shoved away from the counter. And him. “No.” He went back to the couch, intent on brooding, but Junsu sat next to him, a book in his hands. It was one of the children’s books of the alphabet, for Junsu to learn to write and read.
“You’ll help me?” Junsu whispered.
Yoochun nodded. He shut his eyes for long enough to push the demons away. He started with the consonants, helping Junsu put a character to the sound he made when he talked. He heard water boiling behind them, stopped the lesson to show Junsu how to break the ramen up a little and put it in the water. While their dinner (or was it breakfast, Yoochun could never tell with his schedule) cooked, Junsu picked up a pencil and practiced writing in the books Yoochun bought. They ate the ramen, Junsu struggling a bit with the chopsticks. Yoochun did the dishes.
When he was done, Yoochun went back to the couch. Junsu was sitting, flipping through a book.
“That book is in English,” Yoochun said. “You learned another language? Fuck, how long was I doing dishes?”
Junsu laughed, pulling the book up and covering his face so only his happy eyes could be seen. “The hearts are cute. I want to read it.”
Yoochun smiled and sat next to him.
“Will you read it to me?”
“In English?”
“You can translate it.”
“It’s about love.”
“Good,” Junsu said and curled up against Yoochun’s side, arms wrapped around his waist, just like the night before.
Yoochun shifted, but cleared his throat and started reading, first in English and then translating into Korean. It was a cute book, one with really short stories about love connected to an English word. It was why Yoochun bought it, to learn some different words than he was used to. He hadn’t even thought he would be reading a book about love to Junsu.
After a few pages, Junsu asked, “Where did you learn English?”
“My family lived in America for a little while.”
“Oh.” Junsu looked up at him. “You said that in the same ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ voice that you used to talk about your tattoo.”
Yoochun smiled tightly and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Keep reading!”
Yoochun kept reading. When he finished the book, almost two hours later, Junsu looked exhausted.
“You should sleep if you’re tired,” Yoochun whispered, fingers running through Junsu’s pink hair without his permission.
Junsu yawned. “I want ... I don’t want to mess up your schedule.”
“It’s going to take you more than a couple days to do that.”
“I know, but--” he broke off to yawn again.
Yoochun laughed and shifted to get up.
Junsu tightened his hold around his body and actually pouted up at him. “Are you getting up?”
“Yes. You can go sleep in the bed.”
“But this is comfortable. Are you uncomfortable?”
Yoochun met his eyes, deciding what to say. The truth or a lie? With Junsu staring at him with such wide, open, dark, beautiful eyes, lying was much harder than the truth.
“Yes, but only because I like it,” he finally said.
Junsu’s smile widened. “Then don’t get up since we both like it.”
“Look, Junsu--”
“No,” Junsu said, trying to burrow deeper into his chest.
Yoochun sighed and relaxed, one hand landing on Junsu’s shoulder, the other continued to card fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to be a replacement for my uncle, Junsu.”
Junsu lifted himself up quickly, eyes narrowed in the first sign of anger that Yoochun had seen from him. “If that is what I wanted, I’d be naked across your lap with you whipping me with a belt until I bled because if I ever, ever tried touching your uncle without permission, I was punished. You want to punish me for doing exactly what I want?”
“What? No, that’s not fair. I didn’t mean--”
“I know what you meant,” Junsu said and got off the couch. “If everything I do is going to seem like that, then ... well ... I won’t touch you anymore.”
Junsu practically threw himself on the bed, wrapped himself up in all of Yoochun’s blanket like a sushi roll, back to Yoochun.
Maybe lying had been the better option.
Yoochun sighed and stood up. He went to the dresser and grabbed his wallet, phone, cigarettes and keys. At the door, he slipped on a pair of flipflops, didn’t bother saying anything to Junsu, and left. He needed air. He needed to think. He needed to do something to stop his relationship with Junsu spiraling out of control. The guy had been a sex slave his entire life. How was Yoochun supposed to have a normal relationship with him? They really couldn’t, no matter how cute and adorable and nice and practically perfect Junsu was. It was Yoochun’s duty to make sure he learned about real life, learned how to read, learned how to function. Get a job. Move out.
Love was out of the question. For both of them.
Junsu needed to learn that love was not what his uncle did to him.
Yoochun thought he knew what love was, but the only man he had ever loved left him bitter and heartless. Emotionally destroyed. Living life from one shot glass to the next. Yoochun knew that blaming Jaejoong for his mental and emotional issues wasn’t fair. It took a long time for Yoochun to forgive him, to understand that Jaejoong leaving was better than Jaejoong lying to him and being outwardly perfect but miserable on the inside. He did not want Jaejoong to ever be miserable. And yet part of him wondered if Jaejoong had ever tried to forget him through too many bottles of soju.
Yoochun doubted it.
He slipped into the next club he found, set down roots at the bar, and drank until he managed to convince the gorgeous bartender to take him in the back and let him get on his knees.
----
Yoochun staggered home, one hand curled around a mostly empty bottle, the other scraping along buildings to stay upright. His mouth tasted of liquor, vomit and semen. And guilt. Guilt for something. Yoochun couldn’t really remember. Maybe another drink would help.
He crawled up the spinning stairs to his apartment. He forgot which floor. Tilted his head to see numbers. Six sounded right. Maybe it was six.
“Sex,” Yoochun mumbled. “Sex floor. Sex ...”
A muffled voice said something above him. Yoochun pried his eyes open. A neighbor. Maybe.
“Sex floor,” Yoochun said again.
The man laughed. Firm hands gripped under his arms and hauled him to his feet. Yoochun moaned, swallowing a mouthful of bile and saliva. His head swam.
“Drink much?”
“Not enough.”
“You drink a lot, Yoochun-shi.”
“I drink it because I can’t love it.”
“You should lock your door,” the man said, manhandling Yoochun through the door. “Oh, hi.”
Another voice said hello.
“I didn’t know Yoochun ... oh, I’ll just ...”
Yoochun squinted into his apartment. The person standing there had pink hair. Junsu.
“Junsu,” Yoochun mumbled.
“Yeah, hi, I’m ... I’m Junsu.”
“Hi, Junsu. I’m Seunghyun. I live next door. I thought Yoochun lived alone.”
“He does ... did,” Junsu said.
Yoochun swayed as he was transferred into arms. “Pretty,” he said, breath puffing on pink hair.
Seunghyun. Right. The sex neighbor.
Sex.
“Sex floor. Sex. Fuck.” Yoochun fell to his knees and threw up.
The next thing he remembered was a cool cloth rubbing over his arm and an annoyed voice calling him a drunken bastard. And light. Bright sunlight right in his face. He tried to roll over, but his stomach and his head protested.
Fuck, how much did he drink if he was so hungover with a headache?
“You are a drunken bastard,” the voice said again.
Yoochun agreed with it. He rolled the other way, jarring his body when his knees hit the ground. He shut his mouth tightly and crawled in the general direction of his bathroom. He heard huffing behind him, but ignored it. He curled an arm around the base of the toilet, the cool porcelain pressed against his cheek. For a moment only spit dripped into the bowl, and then Yoochun threw up again.
Soft fingers trailed up his back and moved sweaty hair off his clammy skin.
“Such a bastard.” The voice was less annoyed and more fondly exasperated.
Yoochun pried open an eye to look at blurry pink. “M’sorry, Su-su-ah. Sorry.”
Junsu pressed his lips together and nodded. “I’m not going to accept your apology until I know that you know what you’re apologizing for.”
Yoochun tried to reply to that and threw up again instead.
“Gross.” JUnsu turned and left the bathroom.
Yoochun tried to protest, but collapsed on the floor. He lay there until firm hands sat him up and he swallowed against more nausea. His head spun, his world darkened as his shirt was pulled off. He was already just in boxers, and a moment later, hands yanked those down too.
He toppled back and only didn’t smash his head into the floor by strong arms, catching him around his shoulders.
“Come on. On your feet.”
Yoochun staggered up, everything twisting around him. Junsu pushed him and manhandled him into the shower cubicle. The first splash of cold water tore a surprised yelp from Yoochun.
Junsu snorted and adjusted the temperature. He stood behind Yoochun and pushed him under the spray of water.
By the time he was over the shock, Junsu had a soapy washcloth in his hands, rubbing up and down Yoochun’s body.
Yoochun groaned and half-attempted to bat him away, feeling his cock twitch.
“Shut up,” Junsu said and roughly turned Yoochun around to wash his back. Yoochun leaned against the wall, hands limp at his sides, forehead against the cool tile.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
Junsu snorted. The washcloth landed on his shoulder. “You can do the rest yourself, I hope.”
The door opened, letting in a blast of cool air, and Yoochun shivered. He stood under the warm water for a little longer before grabbing the washcloth. But he could barely move and only halfheartedly washed himself. Moving was a bad idea anyway. He probably stood under the spray for ten minutes before the water went cold and he turned it off.
On the counter was a bottle of water and a few pills.
Yoochun smiled despite the pounding in his head. He rubbed a towel over him until he was mostly dry and then took the pills. He forgot about Junsu and walked out of the bathroom naked. Staggered. To the dresser. But it seemed like too much effort to actually get dressed and he fell to the bed instead. He climbed up and under the covers with a deep moan.
The room was dim, the blanket back over the window.
“Thank you,” Yoochun muttered to the general direction of the couch.
“You’re welcome,” came the reply right at his shoulder.
Yoochun turned his head too fast, shut his eyes with a moan, and pulled his pillow over his head.
“Dumbass,” Junsu said softly and rubbed his arm.
“Junsu, I--”
“Just sleep,” Junsu whispered. “You’re still mostly drunk.”
Yoochun grunted, but didn’t try to argue with that. His head was swimming and the room spun when he opened his eyes.
Yoochun woke up again, this time to the annoying beeping of his alarm. He moaned and tried to move to turn it off. But there was something against his body. Warm and heavy.
Fuck. Who did he fall into bed with?
Yoochun hated it when he couldn’t remember.
A strong arm reached across him and slapped the noise off.
Pink hair brushed his chin.
Yoochun suddenly felt wide awake, staring down at Junsu who was trying to cuddle and force his way deeper against Yoochun’s body. His very naked body. “Ten more minutes,” he mumbled.
Yoochun swallowed deeply and mentally cursed. He vaguely remembered coming home shitfaced. Throwing up. And Junsu. Cleaning him up. Taking care of him.
Yoochun shut his eyes with a deep sigh. Fuck.
“How’s your head?” Junsu muttered into his chest. Bare chest. Fucking hell.
Yoochun tried to get up. “Ouch.”
“You deserve it.”
“Yeah.”
Junsu shifted against him again, leg sliding up Yoochun’s. At least Junsu had clothes on.
Yoochun tried to relax and couldn’t.
Junsu huffed in annoyance, grabbed his wrist and flung it around his own shoulders. “Ten more minutes.”
But Yoochun could not relax, not knowing he was completely naked with a gorgeous man wrapped around his body. In his bed.
“If you huff one more time,” Junsu said darkly.
Yoochun chuckled and finally let himself relax, arms around Junsu’s shoulders. After another minute, he said, “I’m sorry for ... for ...”
Junsu lifted his head and an eyebrow. “For ...”
“I don’t even know,” Yoochun said.
Junsu propped up on an elbow. “How about for thinking that I want you to treat me like your uncle did?”
Yoochun nodded. “Yeah. For that.”
“For throwing up all over the floor and then passing out for six hours so I had to clean it up?”
“Definitely.”
“For denying that you like me.”
“I didn’t ...”
Junsu smiled. “Yes, you did.”
Yoochun frowned and shut his eyes. “This isn’t normal.”
“You’re gay, which you explained was not looked too kindly on by society. So not normal. I was a sex slave. Again, not normal. So we’re both not normal. Makes sense that nothing else we do is normal.”
Yoochun smiled and opened his eyes.
Junsu smiled back. “Let me explain something to you, Yoochun. I ... I was satisfied with my life because I didn’t know anything else existed for me. I learned to do what your uncle wanted with the least amount of resistance and the least amount of punishments. You’ve showed me that real life isn’t like this, and I’m learning what that means. I don’t want you to be like your uncle, and I don’t want to act like I did when I was with your uncle. It’s different now. I like you because you’re nice and you’re helping me. This doesn’t have to be anything else.”
“I want it to be something else,” Yoochun said, voice soft but rough. “God, sorry. Did I say that out loud?”
Junsu’s smile widened and then he laughed and fell back to Yoochun’s chest, arms wrapped around him, shoving under his body. “Let me understand what that means first.”
Yoochun hugged him. “Part of it is this,” he said. “Fuck, Junsu, I’m naked. Sharing a bed, cuddling, hugging. It’s ... it’s not what friends do.”
“It’s what we do,” Junsu said. “That’s all. No one else is here to say that it’s wrong.”
Yoochun thought about that for a little while. It was said with such innocence, but Yoochun could not argue with the logic. What he wanted with Junsu at that point was just a dream of a stable boyfriend. Someone to love. Someone to care for. Someone that wouldn’t break his heart.
But when Junsu learned more about the world, got a job, lost a bit of his innocence of society, there was no guarantee that he was going to be left with love.
Or even a friend.
Part 5: Lips
Part 3: Clothes
Part 2: Laughter
Part 1: Lace
.