A Day in the Life of Kim Jaejoong (Flashfic Challenge 62: Careless)
Title: A Day in the Life of Kim Jaejoong
Author: twhitesakura
Word-count: 650
Concrit? Yes
Rating: R
Summary: AU. Meet Kim Jaejoong, rebel and gang leader.
Notes: For keiko_kirin . Prequel to Determined & First Kiss.
8:01am. Kim Mansion.
Two stories up, Jaejoong smashes his dresser against his bedroom mirror. Down below, two carefully manicured people glance at each other over a dining room table large enough to fit four. The bronze chandelier sways. The first one to look away is a woman with a painted red mouth. She takes up her embroidered napkin to dab delicately at her lips folded tightly shut in aggravation.
“We’ll have to call the decorator again, dear.”
The balding man across from her nods in agreement and cuts into his blueberry crepe.
12:38pm. Gwangju High. Cafeteria.
A boy makes himself home on the bench next to Jaejoong.
“You’ve got money, right?” Yoochun asks, hunched into his grimy Black Sabbath hoodie like a creature trying to get out of the sunlight.
Jaejoong shrugs around his bite of meatloaf. Yoochun is always asking for money, for weed to angel dust. He doesn’t know which one it is today, but Yoochun doesn’t care that Jaejoong’s loaded so he takes a roll of bills from his back pocket and carefully slips a few hundreds into Yoochun’s white palm.
“Thanks man,” Yoochun grins, hard and skeletal.
He’s really good at grinning, can make Jaejoong believe he’s doing it for real.
4:13pm. Gwangju High. Utility Closet.
A wet tongue licks a hungry path down Jaejoong’s neck in the broom closet and the cold rim of glasses bump under Jaejoong’s chin. Yunho’s breath is ragged and sharp and claustrophobic, like a whole hive of vuvuzelas during halftime in a soccer game. Jaejoong thought the uptight goody two-shoes would be good to tease, not take his offer seriously.
“I don’t feel like doing this anymore,” Jaejoong says, trying to inject the highest levels of boredom into his voice, and abruptly kicks open the closet door. He takes a deep breath, welcomed and freeing although the air is stale and full of chalk dust. He flees, guilty conscience weighing him down as the Student Council president, desperate and ashamed, pulls his trousers back up from around his ankles.
5:12pm. Downtown Gwangju.
There is a river that runs through town, the bad parts of town that Jaejoong’s parents never taught him about and a space that Jaejoong discovered for himself. He lies down on the riverbank, the inclined side of a concrete causeway, and kicks a few empty bottles of soju down its slope towards the moving water. Plop. Plop. Plop. Jaejoong looks up at the sun and exhales, cigarette smoke rising like a dream. He taps his feet, waiting for the stars.
“You need to work harder, Junsu,” a strangely familiar voice says above him, along the causeway road.
Jaejoong stills.
“I don’t know if I can do it, Changmin,” another voice says mournfully. “I’m just a dumb jock after all.”
A sigh of exasperation.
“Of course you can,” Changmin replies. “I’m only friends with smart people, and you’re my friend, so you must be brilliant.”
Laughter, fighting, and then indignant squeals.
Jaejoong listens as the boys walk away. The hot column of ash from his cigarette falls on his chest, brands him like a freshly inked tattoo.
1:43am. Kim Mansion.
In the dark of his bedroom, with the glow of only a reading lamp and another cigarette, Jaejoong flips through an old yearbook that isn't his. He turns quickly through the classmate signatures to a dead brother, trying to convince himself the burn he feels in his eyes is from nothing other than smoke, and runs his fingers down the photos until they stop at the picture of a dark-skinned boy. The boy has smiling mismatched eyes who Jaejoong only now realizes sits in the back of his math class.
Shim. Tap. Changmin. Tap.
He thumbs open his cellphone, speed dials his motorcycle gang.
“Yeah, Heechul?” Jaejoong exhales a twisting plume of smoke, delicate like a curling finger saying come hither. “I think it’s time for another initiation.”
Author: twhitesakura
Word-count: 650
Concrit? Yes
Rating: R
Summary: AU. Meet Kim Jaejoong, rebel and gang leader.
Notes: For keiko_kirin . Prequel to Determined & First Kiss.
8:01am. Kim Mansion.
Two stories up, Jaejoong smashes his dresser against his bedroom mirror. Down below, two carefully manicured people glance at each other over a dining room table large enough to fit four. The bronze chandelier sways. The first one to look away is a woman with a painted red mouth. She takes up her embroidered napkin to dab delicately at her lips folded tightly shut in aggravation.
“We’ll have to call the decorator again, dear.”
The balding man across from her nods in agreement and cuts into his blueberry crepe.
12:38pm. Gwangju High. Cafeteria.
A boy makes himself home on the bench next to Jaejoong.
“You’ve got money, right?” Yoochun asks, hunched into his grimy Black Sabbath hoodie like a creature trying to get out of the sunlight.
Jaejoong shrugs around his bite of meatloaf. Yoochun is always asking for money, for weed to angel dust. He doesn’t know which one it is today, but Yoochun doesn’t care that Jaejoong’s loaded so he takes a roll of bills from his back pocket and carefully slips a few hundreds into Yoochun’s white palm.
“Thanks man,” Yoochun grins, hard and skeletal.
He’s really good at grinning, can make Jaejoong believe he’s doing it for real.
4:13pm. Gwangju High. Utility Closet.
A wet tongue licks a hungry path down Jaejoong’s neck in the broom closet and the cold rim of glasses bump under Jaejoong’s chin. Yunho’s breath is ragged and sharp and claustrophobic, like a whole hive of vuvuzelas during halftime in a soccer game. Jaejoong thought the uptight goody two-shoes would be good to tease, not take his offer seriously.
“I don’t feel like doing this anymore,” Jaejoong says, trying to inject the highest levels of boredom into his voice, and abruptly kicks open the closet door. He takes a deep breath, welcomed and freeing although the air is stale and full of chalk dust. He flees, guilty conscience weighing him down as the Student Council president, desperate and ashamed, pulls his trousers back up from around his ankles.
5:12pm. Downtown Gwangju.
There is a river that runs through town, the bad parts of town that Jaejoong’s parents never taught him about and a space that Jaejoong discovered for himself. He lies down on the riverbank, the inclined side of a concrete causeway, and kicks a few empty bottles of soju down its slope towards the moving water. Plop. Plop. Plop. Jaejoong looks up at the sun and exhales, cigarette smoke rising like a dream. He taps his feet, waiting for the stars.
“You need to work harder, Junsu,” a strangely familiar voice says above him, along the causeway road.
Jaejoong stills.
“I don’t know if I can do it, Changmin,” another voice says mournfully. “I’m just a dumb jock after all.”
A sigh of exasperation.
“Of course you can,” Changmin replies. “I’m only friends with smart people, and you’re my friend, so you must be brilliant.”
Laughter, fighting, and then indignant squeals.
Jaejoong listens as the boys walk away. The hot column of ash from his cigarette falls on his chest, brands him like a freshly inked tattoo.
1:43am. Kim Mansion.
In the dark of his bedroom, with the glow of only a reading lamp and another cigarette, Jaejoong flips through an old yearbook that isn't his. He turns quickly through the classmate signatures to a dead brother, trying to convince himself the burn he feels in his eyes is from nothing other than smoke, and runs his fingers down the photos until they stop at the picture of a dark-skinned boy. The boy has smiling mismatched eyes who Jaejoong only now realizes sits in the back of his math class.
Shim. Tap. Changmin. Tap.
He thumbs open his cellphone, speed dials his motorcycle gang.
“Yeah, Heechul?” Jaejoong exhales a twisting plume of smoke, delicate like a curling finger saying come hither. “I think it’s time for another initiation.”