and just go (Flashfic Challenge 13: Doubled)
Title: and just go
Author: kallistei
Pairing: Yunho/Junsu
Word count: 394
Concrit?: Always.
Summary: AU. Traveling together.
Author's Notes: For applesu.
Junsu sends Yunho a postcard from every city he visits; Yunho starts to build a map of the world on his fridge, in Junsu's words and the pictures Junsu's chosen, builds the world Junsu wants him to see.
(It starts with Hong Kong lights, Thai temples, Beijing traffic and a picture from the cornershop down the road with 'Junsu was here' scribbled on it, Yunho's souvenirs from the first album tour.
Akihabara game stores, Kyoto geisha and Sapporo beer bottles take him along for the Japanese debut.
The Hollywood sign says 'Hello from the USA', 'wish you were here' never so heartfelt, more than obvious in the way Junsu talks about how American accents mangle his name.)
Some days, it's just one card, Yunho wishing he could smell the sea or Junsu's cologne under all the others who've touched it. Other days, there's a whole stack of cards in an envelope, a scrawled note saying, 'Sorry, didn't get a chance to post these til today. Forgive me?' Yunho leafs through other places, whole countries passing in minutes, imagining Junsu's smile beside each sight. Those days, he almost regrets doing the sensible thing, almost regrets letting his family persuade him dreams would get him nowhere.
(Junsu's living his dream, the one they talked about in hushed whispers under the blankets, spinning could-bes and one-days for each other. Yunho's just along for the ride, still dreaming of stages and dancing and Junsu's voice beside his all across the world in between lectures; he's never left the country.
Once in a while, walking home after a night out, his joints and his thoughts loosened by alcohol, he thinks of buying a ticket to anywhere, to Junsu, of hopping on a plane and just going. Then he remembers classes and his sister's school play, his mother's dinner party and his father's expectations, says to himself, next year, maybe.)
Junsu says, 'I love you,' for the first time on the phone, voice stretched thin by six thousand miles and the distance between twilight and dawn. Yunho's been saying it for years, hello, goodbye, I love you. "I know," he replies, because he does. He's always known. It's in every word Junsu's written, every minute he's stolen from rehearsals and recordings and photoshoots and interviews to let Yunho travel with him.
(In two years, they've spent three weeks, two days, seven hours, forty-six minutes together.)
Author: kallistei
Pairing: Yunho/Junsu
Word count: 394
Concrit?: Always.
Summary: AU. Traveling together.
Author's Notes: For applesu.
Junsu sends Yunho a postcard from every city he visits; Yunho starts to build a map of the world on his fridge, in Junsu's words and the pictures Junsu's chosen, builds the world Junsu wants him to see.
(It starts with Hong Kong lights, Thai temples, Beijing traffic and a picture from the cornershop down the road with 'Junsu was here' scribbled on it, Yunho's souvenirs from the first album tour.
Akihabara game stores, Kyoto geisha and Sapporo beer bottles take him along for the Japanese debut.
The Hollywood sign says 'Hello from the USA', 'wish you were here' never so heartfelt, more than obvious in the way Junsu talks about how American accents mangle his name.)
Some days, it's just one card, Yunho wishing he could smell the sea or Junsu's cologne under all the others who've touched it. Other days, there's a whole stack of cards in an envelope, a scrawled note saying, 'Sorry, didn't get a chance to post these til today. Forgive me?' Yunho leafs through other places, whole countries passing in minutes, imagining Junsu's smile beside each sight. Those days, he almost regrets doing the sensible thing, almost regrets letting his family persuade him dreams would get him nowhere.
(Junsu's living his dream, the one they talked about in hushed whispers under the blankets, spinning could-bes and one-days for each other. Yunho's just along for the ride, still dreaming of stages and dancing and Junsu's voice beside his all across the world in between lectures; he's never left the country.
Once in a while, walking home after a night out, his joints and his thoughts loosened by alcohol, he thinks of buying a ticket to anywhere, to Junsu, of hopping on a plane and just going. Then he remembers classes and his sister's school play, his mother's dinner party and his father's expectations, says to himself, next year, maybe.)
Junsu says, 'I love you,' for the first time on the phone, voice stretched thin by six thousand miles and the distance between twilight and dawn. Yunho's been saying it for years, hello, goodbye, I love you. "I know," he replies, because he does. He's always known. It's in every word Junsu's written, every minute he's stolen from rehearsals and recordings and photoshoots and interviews to let Yunho travel with him.
(In two years, they've spent three weeks, two days, seven hours, forty-six minutes together.)