Soul Song 2/?
Title: Soul Song 2/?
Pairing: Yoochun/Jaejoong (side pairings: Changmin/Junsu, Yunho/Yoohwan)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I'd claim them as my soulmates, but that would make me a liar. They only belong to each other.
Summary: Jaejoong can't hear his soul song, not the way everyone is supposed to. He's given up on ever finding a soulmate. But he can't keep music completely out of his life, especially when Park Yoochun plays his way right into Jaejoong's heart.
A/N: A soulmate fic for everyone that reminded me that I hadn't written one and that I always meant to. Special shoutout to winged-kame for helping me with the idea/plotline.
Part 2:
Morning came too early and too late. Jaejoong had not slept for a very long time. He had stared at his piano. The notes mocked him, dancing through his head. He didn’t exercise, he didn’t eat. He dragged himself out of bed with just enough time to shower and get to his shift on time.
He staggered through his apartment, randomly breathing deep, randomly crying. Too good to be true. With his morning cup of coffee, he pondered his phone and what to say when he called Yoochun to tell him the bad news. In the end, he chickened out and sent a text.
I’m sorry I got your hopes up. It is a beautiful soul song.
Almost immediately, his phone rang. He thought of not answering when he saw it was Yoochun, and then sighed and answered with a very timid greeting.
“Maybe you’re playing it wrong,” he said instead of hello.
Jaejoong tried to smile and sort of sobbed instead. “The rhythm doesn’t change.”
“It can, person to person, and you know it.”
“Not for a soul song.”
“What’s your address?”
“Huh?”
“Your address. I’ll come over and play it for you. You’ll see.”
“But ... it’s not ...”
“And if it isn’t, then okay. I didn’t lie about wanting to be your friend.”
Jaejoong bit his lip and then took a deep breath. “I don’t ... I don’t want you to be so hopeful. You can’t.”
“Hopeful is okay,” Yoochun said. “Heartache is okay too. It’s what fuels my music. But so does friendship. So does love. Please. Let me come and play for you.”
Jaejoong gave him his address.
“I will be there in a half hour.” And he hung up, without even saying goodbye.
A half an hour. Jaejoong had to be at work soon. But this was important. He finished his coffee, took a shower, and was just pulling a button down shirt over his shoulders when there was a firm, rapid knock on the door. He wasn’t really fast enough to get there, trying to get the buttons straight on his shirt at the same time, and the door opened, letting in a slightly disheveled Yoochun.
But god, he looked good. Out of breath, like he ran up the stairs, long hair mostly loose around his head, some pulled back in a floppy bun. And glasses. He was wearing glasses. A blue t-shirt, shorts, flipflops.
He glanced around, saw Jaejoong and went right to him, stopping just out of reach. Well, just in reach, and he did, reached forward, fingers brushing cool against Jaejoong’s stomach. His tattoo. Right.
It was an empty music staff, just under his belly button.
Jaejoong shut his eyes and stepped a little closer. Yoochun’s hand went around his waist, under his shirt. His other hand cupped his cheek and then he was leaning forward, lips brushing, and then joining for a longer moment. Jaejoong put shaking arms around his waist. It was so easy to kiss him. He didn’t even know this man, and it was so natural. Did that mean something?
“Good morning, beautiful,” Yoochun said against his lips.
Jaejoong tittered out a noise, sort of a sob, sort of a laugh.
Yoochun pulled away and smiled. “Sorry I just barged in. I wanted to see you. Reassure you. Just something. You looked so sad, but come on.” He took Jaejoong’s hand and led him to the piano. The notebook was still there, the page ruined from Jaejoong’s tears.
Yoochun sat on the bench and trailed his fingers through a quick scale of looping notes, all the way up to the highest note. “Beautiful sound. You take good care of her.” He went back down, twirling through complicated scales to the lowest notes.
“Her?”
“Of course. Unless ... is your piano a guy?”
“You’ve gendered a piano?”
“I name all my pianos. It depends on their sound. But ... maybe Jonghyun. Girl or guy, right?”
Jaejoong snorted and stood behind him, hands on his shoulder and then in his hair. He figured that after a kiss, he had permission to touch, so he did, fingers on his neck, through the hair, pulling at a few tangles.
Yoochun played. Jaejoong did not know what, but it was not his soul song. Just music. Fingers trailing through the notes.
And then eight F majors. It was so harsh against the music from before.
Jaejoong gasped out loud and then watched as Yoochun played it again.
“I have a theory,” Yoochun said, playing each note by itself. Each note Jaejoong heard. “About soul songs. They always feel incomplete, not because I haven’t found my soulmate yet, but because it’s only a few notes. It’s the middle of the song. Something came before it, right? Your life, my life, everything before I walked into that paper store. And now there is life after it. These notes just represent that moment. Like a score to our lives. If we were in a movie.”
Jaejoong swallowed. “I like that theory.”
“I don’t know why you can’t hear it though,” Yoochun said, and then slid over. “Come sit. I’ll play it for you.”
“But it’s ... it’s ... not right.”
“It is.”
“What if I’m not ... what if you’re ... what if we aren’t soulmates?”
Yoochun shook his head. “Just sit. I trust you.”
Jaejoong sat and accepted a kiss to his cheek, and then Yoochun’s fingers were over the keys again, playing silly love songs, playing pop songs, playing classical pieces. He was a really good piano player, and Jaejoong sang along to the ones he knew.
“You are so beautiful,” Yoochun said. “Here. Play.”
“Play what?”
“Whatever you hear.”
Jaejoong played eight F majors, and Yoochun laughed. “Not that. Come on. Watch.”
Jaejoong watched him play his soul song. He watched his fingers hit different keys, but they all sounded the same. Jaejoong huffed, but watched again, and then again.
“Maybe you were playing it wrong,” Yoochun said. “Maybe it’s hard to hear when it’s all the same note in your head. I always thought it was so fitting that my soul song sounded like jazz music. It’s my favorite. BB King, Duke Ellington, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Frank Sinatra; they’re all my influences. So jazz it up. Make it jazzy.”
Jaejoong settled shaking fingers over the area of keys. “I ... I don’t know how to do that.”
“Shut your eyes,” Yoochun whispered, arms around his waist and chin on Jaejoong’s shoulder. “Shut your eyes and just play it. You can feel it. Even if you can’t hear it, you can feel it.”
Jaejoong shut his eyes. His fingers fumbled on the keys. They didn’t sound like F majors, but he tried again and then again. Yoochun’s hand slipped under his shirt again, warm on his skin. His breath was soft on Jaejoong’s ear.
Jaejoong had no idea how long he played those notes over and over, until his fingers knew what his heart had known all along, and then just as suddenly, he was playing F majors. Over and over. It startled him, but not enough to stop.
“There we go,” Yoochun whispered.
Finding your soulmate wasn’t supposed to require work. Or heartbreak. It wasn’t supposed to be difficult. A soul song bled through you, it set a pace to everything else you did. And when you found the person that walked to the same beat, it was supposed to be easy. It wasn’t supposed to be so hard.
“Maybe if you play it enough, you’ll hear it,” Yoochun said.
“I’m sorry,” Jaejoong said and stopped playing. “This ... this is cheating. You’re not supposed to teach me how to play your soul song.”
Yoochun smiled and turned Jaejoong’s face to his. He was crying and Jaejoong lifted a hand to wipe at his tears. “Maybe a little. Maybe not. What kind of soulmate would I be if I wasn’t willing to work harder for something that you were not able to do? It’s a partnership, you know? F majors?”
Jaejoong nodded and played it again, eyes on Yoochun. F majors in his soul. Yoochun smiled and leaned forward for another kiss.
Jaejoong’s phone rang in the moment, jerking them both apart.
“Fuck, I’m late for work,” Jaejoong said.
Yoochun smiled and nodded. “I’ll walk with you. I have today off. After your shift, can I take you dinner?”
Jaejoong flushed and stood up. “Yeah, okay.”
Yoochun stayed at the piano, playing F majors over and over again, and for the first time, the notes weren’t a painful reminder of what he was missing.
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪
Jaejoong introduced Yoochun to Yoona, and said, “When he plays, all I hear is F majors.”
Her eyes went wide in understanding, and then she squealed and hugged him, and then hugged Yoochun, and then she was on the phone calling first Minho, her soulmate, and then Taemin to tell them the good news.
Afterwards, she quite firmly kicked them both out of the store and told Jaejoong that she did not want to see his face in her store until his shift on Monday morning, effectively giving him the weekend off.
Yoochun laughed on the sidewalk and said, “Okay, so instead of dinner, how about breakfast?”
Jaejoong smiled and nodded. “Sounds good.”
Yoochun held out his hand, and Jaejoong took it, their fingers and hands joining almost effortlessly. A far cry from the fight of Jaejoong’s soul. But the despair was gone. Not completely, because he felt like any moment he might lose Yoochun to someone who heard the same notes as he.
Hope. Definitely hope. Again.
It was a strange feeling.
“Should we go to a restaurant,” Yoochun asked, “or the market and eat something fried and covered in sugar?”
Jaejoong chuckled. “Well, you’re my soulmate. You should know the answer to that question.”
Yoochun hummed and said, “The market it is. Come on. There’s an older lady that sells berry-filled donuts that are almost orgasmic.”
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪
They spent too many hours at the market, well, too many hours if either of them had anything else to do. They discovered a similar taste in not just music but also movies, books, clothes, and food. At the market, Jaejoong bought food for dinner. And Yoochun bought him flowers, almost more than the two of them could carry, just because Jaejoong had said that he liked flowers. It wasn’t a lie, or a coincidence that Yoochun picked out tiger lilies and gerbera daisies, the two flowers most prominently tattooed on his back.
Jaejoong had two vases in his house, and they used cups and glasses for the rest of the flowers. A lone rose ended up living in a beer bottle that Jaejoong salvaged from his recycling bin. Yoochun set it on top of Jaejoong’s piano before sitting on the bench and playing.
Jaejoong laughed and asked, “Are you capable of not playing?”
Yoochun stared at him, aghast and said, “How dare you! Just for that, I demand that you sit and play with me.”
Jaejoong had no problems doing that. He sat down, put an arm loosely around his middle. He shut his eyes and listened to him play. Classical music. An opera maybe.
“You know, I have a theory.”
“Another one?” Jaejoong said and pushed him with his shoulder.
Yoochun chuckled. “There’s a humpback whale, that swims alone. Whales are social creatures, and they travel in pods. Scientists didn’t know why this whale was alone, and then they figured it out. Her whale song is different. She calls for her family, but they don’t hear her because it’s on a different register. Maybe that’s what happened with you.”
“But you found me.”
“Not because of your song. I couldn’t sleep that night, the first time I saw you. You were just playing me, toying with my emotions. But I knew that wasn’t true. It was just ... the anguish in your face. The pain. That is hard to fake. I’ve been played before, so I was cautious.”
“What happened?” Jaejoong asked, plopping his head on Yoochun’s shoulder while the other continued to tinker on the piano.
“My family moved to America when I was a teenager. I was seventeen the first time I heard my soul song. I was excited and started playing it on every piano I could. There are warnings near the pianos in America, ones that say to be careful of swindlers. And I got swindled. I had no idea that this man had been stalking me, following me, hearing me play for four months. He came to me, claiming I was his soulmate, and when he played the song, it wasn’t quite perfect, but close enough. He used me, for my body, my youth, my money.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jaejoong said. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”
Yoochun smiled. “Maybe not. I was naive. My parents called the police on him. He was almost forty. He was arrested and charged with Soulmate Manipulation and sexual exploitation of a minor. I’m sure he’s still in prison. But it’s one of the reasons I’m so certain about this, about you, even if you can’t hear my song. You don’t just make my soul sing, Jaejoong, you make my heart beat, my skin tingle, and every single part of me wants to smile and laugh when I’m near you.”
Jaejoong’s heart tightened in his chest. He wanted to reply with something just as romantic, but did not know how. Instead, he pressed a long kiss to Yoochun’s cheek and listened to Yoochun play.
“So America,” Jaejoong said after a while.
Yoochun hummed, the notes suddenly changing. “My father’s company transferred him there. He died when I was only twenty-two.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, my mother is being strong though. His company asked us if we wanted to stay in America, but she wanted to be close to her family, so we moved back.”
“Are you an only child?”
“No, I have a younger brother. He’s twenty-one now. He found his soulmate right when we got back to Korea, when he was barely nineteen.”
“Lucky.”
“Yeah. I was jealous for a long time, but now I know why I hadn’t found my soulmate yet. I wasn’t looking hard enough for you. Or listening hard enough.”
“Thank you for taking a chance.”
Yoochun kissed his forehead. “What about you? Your family?”
Jaejoong pulled away, ducking his head. “I ... I don’t know my parents. I was adopted when I was really little. My father and mother gave me up. I don’t know why. I have eight sisters and they all found their soulmates really young, some have children and I am, well, I’m ... I don’t know ... well, the youngest. Sort of forgotten and insignificant, but ...”
Yoochun stopped playing and pulled his face around and kissed him. “You are not insignificant. Not to me. Not to Yoona. Not to Taemin, even. He looks up to you. Stop that right now. I want you to smile. Always smile.”
Jaejoong tried, eyes welling with tears again.
“Come on, let’s eat dinner, and snuggle on your bed and watch stupid movies.”
Jaejoong laughed. “Sounds perfect.”
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪
“Do you want to stay?” Jaejoong asked as the credits of a silly love movie played on his laptop screen. It was their third movie, and it was nearing one in the morning.
“I shouldn’t.”
“You should.”
Yoochun frowned at him.
Jaejoong smiled. “I know you’re not taking advantage of me. It’s late. I want you to stay. If you aren’t here in the morning, I’m going to think I dreamed it all.”
Yoochun’s face softened and he smiled. “Okay. Let me go make a phone call. I live with my brother and his soulmate, I don’t want them to worry, especially after it took him so long to talk me into coming back for you.”
“So I owe your brother already?”
Yoochun laughed. “Not my brother. His soulmate. Yunho. My brother is very much against this because of what happened to me before.”
Jaejoong nodded. While Yoochun made his phone call, Jaejoong went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He made sure to grab shorts and a tanktop to change into. It had been a very long, very emotional day. He stopped in shock when he came out of the bathroom and found himself staring at skin. A lot of skin.
Yoochun had stripped down. Just in boxers, sitting on the edge of his bed. He was skinny, but strong enough. Sexy. He had tattoos too. But it was his smile that had Jaejoong reeling. Such happiness. He hoped he looked the same.
“I’m going to assume that we’re sharing the bed,” Yoochun said.
Jaejoong nodded. He didn’t have a couch or anything else, and if he was honest with himself, he wanted Yoochun in bed with him. And it was so easy, so easy to climb in the bed with him, so easy to curl up against his bare chest. So easy to press a kiss to his collarbone.
Natural. Like he had done it so many times before.
“Good night, soulmate of mine,” Yoochun whispered and hummed eight F majors.
Jaejoong smiled and said, “Good night.”
Natural, to fall asleep pressed against his warm skin, listening to his heart beat.
When he woke up to the sunlight streaming from his windows, he groaned and moved.
“Hold still,” Yoochun said.
Jaejoong sat up with a shout, and then sighed in relief when he caught sight of Yoochun, kneeling on the bed. He had a pen in his hand.
“You’re ruining it,” Yoochun said with a pout and pushed him back to the bed by his shoulder. He pushed up his tank top.
Jaejoong had no idea what, but he went back and sighed again. It had not been a dream. He had found his soulmate. He smiled at the ceiling.
His stomach jerked at the soft touch to his skin and he glanced down. Yoochun was writing notes on his tattoo. In pen.
“What--”
“Sh. Writing.”
The tattoo was only so long though, and he ran out of space and drew another staff underneath it. He bit his lip, concentrating. The touches of pen to skin were deliberate and careful. He hummed the melody as he went, and then smiled. Jaejoong tried not to move, but then everything started itching.
And Yoochun was pressed to his crotch. Every breath pushing against him. Every small movement teasing him, and Jaejoong bit his lip against a moan, fighting the urge to frot up against him. It’d been a very long time since he’d felt the stirrings of lust, and he tried to keep breathing as everything swam around him.
And Yoochun smiled up at him. “Give me five more minutes.”
Jaejoong looked at the ceiling. He would not be able to last five minutes without jumping him. He did his best to hold his breath.
“Okay. Don’t shower yet. Not until I can get it on paper.”
“Take a picture.”
“Of your body? Okay.” He held out his phone and snapped a picture of Jaejoong’s stomach. And then his finger was back, trialing over the notes he’d written. He hummed the melody, a smile on his face.
Jaejoong laughed and shoved his hand away. “That tickles. What the hell?”
“Woke up with music in my head. It happens a lot. I didn’t have paper, but I remembered a perfect spot where I could write.” He dragged his fingers over it and then leaned over him for a short kiss.
“I always meant to have the soul song tattooed there,” Jaejoong said, “as soon as I knew what it was.”
Yoochun shook his head and kissed him again, a little longer, a little sweeter. “Don’t. If you tattoo notes on it, then I can’t use it as a writing pad.”
Jaejoong flushed. “Ass.”
“Already?”
“That was an insult, not an offer.”
“I was being optimistic.”
Jaejoong grinned and shook his head. “I haven’t ... I’ve never ... I didn’t know ...”
Yoochun smiled, hand soft on his cheek. “It’s okay. Whenever you’re ready. You let me know and I will rock your world.”
“So humble.”
Yoochun laughed and kissed him. “Come on. We have all day to spend together, and then I want to take you to my work and show off.”
Part 3: Dissonance
Part 1: Sweet Melody
.
Pairing: Yoochun/Jaejoong (side pairings: Changmin/Junsu, Yunho/Yoohwan)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I'd claim them as my soulmates, but that would make me a liar. They only belong to each other.
Summary: Jaejoong can't hear his soul song, not the way everyone is supposed to. He's given up on ever finding a soulmate. But he can't keep music completely out of his life, especially when Park Yoochun plays his way right into Jaejoong's heart.
A/N: A soulmate fic for everyone that reminded me that I hadn't written one and that I always meant to. Special shoutout to winged-kame for helping me with the idea/plotline.
Part 2:
Morning came too early and too late. Jaejoong had not slept for a very long time. He had stared at his piano. The notes mocked him, dancing through his head. He didn’t exercise, he didn’t eat. He dragged himself out of bed with just enough time to shower and get to his shift on time.
He staggered through his apartment, randomly breathing deep, randomly crying. Too good to be true. With his morning cup of coffee, he pondered his phone and what to say when he called Yoochun to tell him the bad news. In the end, he chickened out and sent a text.
I’m sorry I got your hopes up. It is a beautiful soul song.
Almost immediately, his phone rang. He thought of not answering when he saw it was Yoochun, and then sighed and answered with a very timid greeting.
“Maybe you’re playing it wrong,” he said instead of hello.
Jaejoong tried to smile and sort of sobbed instead. “The rhythm doesn’t change.”
“It can, person to person, and you know it.”
“Not for a soul song.”
“What’s your address?”
“Huh?”
“Your address. I’ll come over and play it for you. You’ll see.”
“But ... it’s not ...”
“And if it isn’t, then okay. I didn’t lie about wanting to be your friend.”
Jaejoong bit his lip and then took a deep breath. “I don’t ... I don’t want you to be so hopeful. You can’t.”
“Hopeful is okay,” Yoochun said. “Heartache is okay too. It’s what fuels my music. But so does friendship. So does love. Please. Let me come and play for you.”
Jaejoong gave him his address.
“I will be there in a half hour.” And he hung up, without even saying goodbye.
A half an hour. Jaejoong had to be at work soon. But this was important. He finished his coffee, took a shower, and was just pulling a button down shirt over his shoulders when there was a firm, rapid knock on the door. He wasn’t really fast enough to get there, trying to get the buttons straight on his shirt at the same time, and the door opened, letting in a slightly disheveled Yoochun.
But god, he looked good. Out of breath, like he ran up the stairs, long hair mostly loose around his head, some pulled back in a floppy bun. And glasses. He was wearing glasses. A blue t-shirt, shorts, flipflops.
He glanced around, saw Jaejoong and went right to him, stopping just out of reach. Well, just in reach, and he did, reached forward, fingers brushing cool against Jaejoong’s stomach. His tattoo. Right.
It was an empty music staff, just under his belly button.
Jaejoong shut his eyes and stepped a little closer. Yoochun’s hand went around his waist, under his shirt. His other hand cupped his cheek and then he was leaning forward, lips brushing, and then joining for a longer moment. Jaejoong put shaking arms around his waist. It was so easy to kiss him. He didn’t even know this man, and it was so natural. Did that mean something?
“Good morning, beautiful,” Yoochun said against his lips.
Jaejoong tittered out a noise, sort of a sob, sort of a laugh.
Yoochun pulled away and smiled. “Sorry I just barged in. I wanted to see you. Reassure you. Just something. You looked so sad, but come on.” He took Jaejoong’s hand and led him to the piano. The notebook was still there, the page ruined from Jaejoong’s tears.
Yoochun sat on the bench and trailed his fingers through a quick scale of looping notes, all the way up to the highest note. “Beautiful sound. You take good care of her.” He went back down, twirling through complicated scales to the lowest notes.
“Her?”
“Of course. Unless ... is your piano a guy?”
“You’ve gendered a piano?”
“I name all my pianos. It depends on their sound. But ... maybe Jonghyun. Girl or guy, right?”
Jaejoong snorted and stood behind him, hands on his shoulder and then in his hair. He figured that after a kiss, he had permission to touch, so he did, fingers on his neck, through the hair, pulling at a few tangles.
Yoochun played. Jaejoong did not know what, but it was not his soul song. Just music. Fingers trailing through the notes.
And then eight F majors. It was so harsh against the music from before.
Jaejoong gasped out loud and then watched as Yoochun played it again.
“I have a theory,” Yoochun said, playing each note by itself. Each note Jaejoong heard. “About soul songs. They always feel incomplete, not because I haven’t found my soulmate yet, but because it’s only a few notes. It’s the middle of the song. Something came before it, right? Your life, my life, everything before I walked into that paper store. And now there is life after it. These notes just represent that moment. Like a score to our lives. If we were in a movie.”
Jaejoong swallowed. “I like that theory.”
“I don’t know why you can’t hear it though,” Yoochun said, and then slid over. “Come sit. I’ll play it for you.”
“But it’s ... it’s ... not right.”
“It is.”
“What if I’m not ... what if you’re ... what if we aren’t soulmates?”
Yoochun shook his head. “Just sit. I trust you.”
Jaejoong sat and accepted a kiss to his cheek, and then Yoochun’s fingers were over the keys again, playing silly love songs, playing pop songs, playing classical pieces. He was a really good piano player, and Jaejoong sang along to the ones he knew.
“You are so beautiful,” Yoochun said. “Here. Play.”
“Play what?”
“Whatever you hear.”
Jaejoong played eight F majors, and Yoochun laughed. “Not that. Come on. Watch.”
Jaejoong watched him play his soul song. He watched his fingers hit different keys, but they all sounded the same. Jaejoong huffed, but watched again, and then again.
“Maybe you were playing it wrong,” Yoochun said. “Maybe it’s hard to hear when it’s all the same note in your head. I always thought it was so fitting that my soul song sounded like jazz music. It’s my favorite. BB King, Duke Ellington, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Frank Sinatra; they’re all my influences. So jazz it up. Make it jazzy.”
Jaejoong settled shaking fingers over the area of keys. “I ... I don’t know how to do that.”
“Shut your eyes,” Yoochun whispered, arms around his waist and chin on Jaejoong’s shoulder. “Shut your eyes and just play it. You can feel it. Even if you can’t hear it, you can feel it.”
Jaejoong shut his eyes. His fingers fumbled on the keys. They didn’t sound like F majors, but he tried again and then again. Yoochun’s hand slipped under his shirt again, warm on his skin. His breath was soft on Jaejoong’s ear.
Jaejoong had no idea how long he played those notes over and over, until his fingers knew what his heart had known all along, and then just as suddenly, he was playing F majors. Over and over. It startled him, but not enough to stop.
“There we go,” Yoochun whispered.
Finding your soulmate wasn’t supposed to require work. Or heartbreak. It wasn’t supposed to be difficult. A soul song bled through you, it set a pace to everything else you did. And when you found the person that walked to the same beat, it was supposed to be easy. It wasn’t supposed to be so hard.
“Maybe if you play it enough, you’ll hear it,” Yoochun said.
“I’m sorry,” Jaejoong said and stopped playing. “This ... this is cheating. You’re not supposed to teach me how to play your soul song.”
Yoochun smiled and turned Jaejoong’s face to his. He was crying and Jaejoong lifted a hand to wipe at his tears. “Maybe a little. Maybe not. What kind of soulmate would I be if I wasn’t willing to work harder for something that you were not able to do? It’s a partnership, you know? F majors?”
Jaejoong nodded and played it again, eyes on Yoochun. F majors in his soul. Yoochun smiled and leaned forward for another kiss.
Jaejoong’s phone rang in the moment, jerking them both apart.
“Fuck, I’m late for work,” Jaejoong said.
Yoochun smiled and nodded. “I’ll walk with you. I have today off. After your shift, can I take you dinner?”
Jaejoong flushed and stood up. “Yeah, okay.”
Yoochun stayed at the piano, playing F majors over and over again, and for the first time, the notes weren’t a painful reminder of what he was missing.
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪
Jaejoong introduced Yoochun to Yoona, and said, “When he plays, all I hear is F majors.”
Her eyes went wide in understanding, and then she squealed and hugged him, and then hugged Yoochun, and then she was on the phone calling first Minho, her soulmate, and then Taemin to tell them the good news.
Afterwards, she quite firmly kicked them both out of the store and told Jaejoong that she did not want to see his face in her store until his shift on Monday morning, effectively giving him the weekend off.
Yoochun laughed on the sidewalk and said, “Okay, so instead of dinner, how about breakfast?”
Jaejoong smiled and nodded. “Sounds good.”
Yoochun held out his hand, and Jaejoong took it, their fingers and hands joining almost effortlessly. A far cry from the fight of Jaejoong’s soul. But the despair was gone. Not completely, because he felt like any moment he might lose Yoochun to someone who heard the same notes as he.
Hope. Definitely hope. Again.
It was a strange feeling.
“Should we go to a restaurant,” Yoochun asked, “or the market and eat something fried and covered in sugar?”
Jaejoong chuckled. “Well, you’re my soulmate. You should know the answer to that question.”
Yoochun hummed and said, “The market it is. Come on. There’s an older lady that sells berry-filled donuts that are almost orgasmic.”
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪
They spent too many hours at the market, well, too many hours if either of them had anything else to do. They discovered a similar taste in not just music but also movies, books, clothes, and food. At the market, Jaejoong bought food for dinner. And Yoochun bought him flowers, almost more than the two of them could carry, just because Jaejoong had said that he liked flowers. It wasn’t a lie, or a coincidence that Yoochun picked out tiger lilies and gerbera daisies, the two flowers most prominently tattooed on his back.
Jaejoong had two vases in his house, and they used cups and glasses for the rest of the flowers. A lone rose ended up living in a beer bottle that Jaejoong salvaged from his recycling bin. Yoochun set it on top of Jaejoong’s piano before sitting on the bench and playing.
Jaejoong laughed and asked, “Are you capable of not playing?”
Yoochun stared at him, aghast and said, “How dare you! Just for that, I demand that you sit and play with me.”
Jaejoong had no problems doing that. He sat down, put an arm loosely around his middle. He shut his eyes and listened to him play. Classical music. An opera maybe.
“You know, I have a theory.”
“Another one?” Jaejoong said and pushed him with his shoulder.
Yoochun chuckled. “There’s a humpback whale, that swims alone. Whales are social creatures, and they travel in pods. Scientists didn’t know why this whale was alone, and then they figured it out. Her whale song is different. She calls for her family, but they don’t hear her because it’s on a different register. Maybe that’s what happened with you.”
“But you found me.”
“Not because of your song. I couldn’t sleep that night, the first time I saw you. You were just playing me, toying with my emotions. But I knew that wasn’t true. It was just ... the anguish in your face. The pain. That is hard to fake. I’ve been played before, so I was cautious.”
“What happened?” Jaejoong asked, plopping his head on Yoochun’s shoulder while the other continued to tinker on the piano.
“My family moved to America when I was a teenager. I was seventeen the first time I heard my soul song. I was excited and started playing it on every piano I could. There are warnings near the pianos in America, ones that say to be careful of swindlers. And I got swindled. I had no idea that this man had been stalking me, following me, hearing me play for four months. He came to me, claiming I was his soulmate, and when he played the song, it wasn’t quite perfect, but close enough. He used me, for my body, my youth, my money.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jaejoong said. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”
Yoochun smiled. “Maybe not. I was naive. My parents called the police on him. He was almost forty. He was arrested and charged with Soulmate Manipulation and sexual exploitation of a minor. I’m sure he’s still in prison. But it’s one of the reasons I’m so certain about this, about you, even if you can’t hear my song. You don’t just make my soul sing, Jaejoong, you make my heart beat, my skin tingle, and every single part of me wants to smile and laugh when I’m near you.”
Jaejoong’s heart tightened in his chest. He wanted to reply with something just as romantic, but did not know how. Instead, he pressed a long kiss to Yoochun’s cheek and listened to Yoochun play.
“So America,” Jaejoong said after a while.
Yoochun hummed, the notes suddenly changing. “My father’s company transferred him there. He died when I was only twenty-two.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, my mother is being strong though. His company asked us if we wanted to stay in America, but she wanted to be close to her family, so we moved back.”
“Are you an only child?”
“No, I have a younger brother. He’s twenty-one now. He found his soulmate right when we got back to Korea, when he was barely nineteen.”
“Lucky.”
“Yeah. I was jealous for a long time, but now I know why I hadn’t found my soulmate yet. I wasn’t looking hard enough for you. Or listening hard enough.”
“Thank you for taking a chance.”
Yoochun kissed his forehead. “What about you? Your family?”
Jaejoong pulled away, ducking his head. “I ... I don’t know my parents. I was adopted when I was really little. My father and mother gave me up. I don’t know why. I have eight sisters and they all found their soulmates really young, some have children and I am, well, I’m ... I don’t know ... well, the youngest. Sort of forgotten and insignificant, but ...”
Yoochun stopped playing and pulled his face around and kissed him. “You are not insignificant. Not to me. Not to Yoona. Not to Taemin, even. He looks up to you. Stop that right now. I want you to smile. Always smile.”
Jaejoong tried, eyes welling with tears again.
“Come on, let’s eat dinner, and snuggle on your bed and watch stupid movies.”
Jaejoong laughed. “Sounds perfect.”
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪
“Do you want to stay?” Jaejoong asked as the credits of a silly love movie played on his laptop screen. It was their third movie, and it was nearing one in the morning.
“I shouldn’t.”
“You should.”
Yoochun frowned at him.
Jaejoong smiled. “I know you’re not taking advantage of me. It’s late. I want you to stay. If you aren’t here in the morning, I’m going to think I dreamed it all.”
Yoochun’s face softened and he smiled. “Okay. Let me go make a phone call. I live with my brother and his soulmate, I don’t want them to worry, especially after it took him so long to talk me into coming back for you.”
“So I owe your brother already?”
Yoochun laughed. “Not my brother. His soulmate. Yunho. My brother is very much against this because of what happened to me before.”
Jaejoong nodded. While Yoochun made his phone call, Jaejoong went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He made sure to grab shorts and a tanktop to change into. It had been a very long, very emotional day. He stopped in shock when he came out of the bathroom and found himself staring at skin. A lot of skin.
Yoochun had stripped down. Just in boxers, sitting on the edge of his bed. He was skinny, but strong enough. Sexy. He had tattoos too. But it was his smile that had Jaejoong reeling. Such happiness. He hoped he looked the same.
“I’m going to assume that we’re sharing the bed,” Yoochun said.
Jaejoong nodded. He didn’t have a couch or anything else, and if he was honest with himself, he wanted Yoochun in bed with him. And it was so easy, so easy to climb in the bed with him, so easy to curl up against his bare chest. So easy to press a kiss to his collarbone.
Natural. Like he had done it so many times before.
“Good night, soulmate of mine,” Yoochun whispered and hummed eight F majors.
Jaejoong smiled and said, “Good night.”
Natural, to fall asleep pressed against his warm skin, listening to his heart beat.
When he woke up to the sunlight streaming from his windows, he groaned and moved.
“Hold still,” Yoochun said.
Jaejoong sat up with a shout, and then sighed in relief when he caught sight of Yoochun, kneeling on the bed. He had a pen in his hand.
“You’re ruining it,” Yoochun said with a pout and pushed him back to the bed by his shoulder. He pushed up his tank top.
Jaejoong had no idea what, but he went back and sighed again. It had not been a dream. He had found his soulmate. He smiled at the ceiling.
His stomach jerked at the soft touch to his skin and he glanced down. Yoochun was writing notes on his tattoo. In pen.
“What--”
“Sh. Writing.”
The tattoo was only so long though, and he ran out of space and drew another staff underneath it. He bit his lip, concentrating. The touches of pen to skin were deliberate and careful. He hummed the melody as he went, and then smiled. Jaejoong tried not to move, but then everything started itching.
And Yoochun was pressed to his crotch. Every breath pushing against him. Every small movement teasing him, and Jaejoong bit his lip against a moan, fighting the urge to frot up against him. It’d been a very long time since he’d felt the stirrings of lust, and he tried to keep breathing as everything swam around him.
And Yoochun smiled up at him. “Give me five more minutes.”
Jaejoong looked at the ceiling. He would not be able to last five minutes without jumping him. He did his best to hold his breath.
“Okay. Don’t shower yet. Not until I can get it on paper.”
“Take a picture.”
“Of your body? Okay.” He held out his phone and snapped a picture of Jaejoong’s stomach. And then his finger was back, trialing over the notes he’d written. He hummed the melody, a smile on his face.
Jaejoong laughed and shoved his hand away. “That tickles. What the hell?”
“Woke up with music in my head. It happens a lot. I didn’t have paper, but I remembered a perfect spot where I could write.” He dragged his fingers over it and then leaned over him for a short kiss.
“I always meant to have the soul song tattooed there,” Jaejoong said, “as soon as I knew what it was.”
Yoochun shook his head and kissed him again, a little longer, a little sweeter. “Don’t. If you tattoo notes on it, then I can’t use it as a writing pad.”
Jaejoong flushed. “Ass.”
“Already?”
“That was an insult, not an offer.”
“I was being optimistic.”
Jaejoong grinned and shook his head. “I haven’t ... I’ve never ... I didn’t know ...”
Yoochun smiled, hand soft on his cheek. “It’s okay. Whenever you’re ready. You let me know and I will rock your world.”
“So humble.”
Yoochun laughed and kissed him. “Come on. We have all day to spend together, and then I want to take you to my work and show off.”
Part 3: Dissonance
Part 1: Sweet Melody
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