ζ
tangency
8385; r; au
yoochun/changmin
a love confession from me to
florentineeggs
[one]
he spills his drink on the arm of changmin's new silk shirt and his own scuffed shoes. oh fuck, shit i'm so sorry, the apologies loud and profuse, wiping at changmin's elbow with his own shirt sleeve. changmin bows his head, his smile forced and polite hoping to cancel out the profanities behind him and disengages himself from his congratulatory aunt.
changmin turns to find not a classmate, but a rather disconcerted looking mess of black hair and wrinkled trousers still scrubbing away at his sleeve. changmin pulls his arm away as graciously as he can and the boy's overly concerned expression quickly melts into something mischievous as he meets changmin's eyes
"oh. i thought you were someone important."
changmin stares as he is given a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and an offhanded suggestion to put some seltzer water on it and changmin smells his shirt and no that definitely isn't fruit juice.
the boy turns and weaves in between various other classmates and collides into a dumpy woman with an hand full of little napkin appetizers and nearly runs over a toddler (it takes a certain caliber of asshole to get drunk at a high-school graduation party, changmin thinks) and he almost calls out "wait you jerk" after the boy but he swallows it as quickly as he thinks it because what would he say if he turned around?
out of some sort of basic propriety, changmin forces himself to take the time to thank every teacher that crosses his line of sight for their knowledge and support and in return they all give him some variation on the generic oh you were such a bright boy i'm certain you'll have an even brighter future please do keep in touch. by the seventh go-around he is tired and his teeth hurt from all the smiling so he quickly formulates an escape to the bathroom
en route he runs into a classmate of his, a heart-faced girl with a new and unfortunate haircut, blunt and severe in all the wrong places. the torch she had carried for him since middle school had only burned brighter as the years passed and it was only after considering the prospect of never having to awkwardly carry on a conversation with her ever again that changmin tells himself to stand still and look interested.
he doesn't realize until her hand brushes against his that she was confessing to him, that yes, she really has liked him all this time, and only just now she's mustered up the courage to let him know, because well, maybe she'll never see him again and
now it's his turn
oh, um, stumbles changmin. thanks?
the girl beams at him and he searches desperately for a familiar face in the nearby vicinity
when he comes up empty, he looks back at her with a "that's...that's really nice of you."
the girl takes out a piece of yellow stationary from her dainty purse. meticulously folded who knows how many times into a perfect tiny square with his name written on it, small and round with sparkly pink pen.
she blushes and hands it to him with both her arms outstretched.
"i really hope you'll call."
[two]
changmin pushes open the door to the bathroom and thankfully it's empty so he washes his hands, adjusts his crooked tie, pokes the dark puffy circles underneath his eyes, even more obvious under the painfully fluorescent lights.
just as he's about to head over to the urinal he hears the unmistakable sob and gag of vomit then the splash of water followed by heavy breathing and a tentative silence
changmin tilts himself to see if he can catch a glimpse, but he's all the way over in the corner stall, so changmin offers a
"hey, are you okay?"
he's answered by another round of offerings to the toilet god and changmin grimaces.
he grabs a bunch of paper towels from the dispenser and walks over the stall and sees a pair of worn soles in the mirror, a piece of once red gum stuck to the right heel now dirty and gray. he passes the paper towels underneath the gap and is mumbled a "thanks."
after a flush or two and the rustling of clothing, the door swings open and changmin is greeted by the boy from before, his hair an even bigger mess now sweaty and sticking to his forehead lips wet but he doesn't miss a beat when he says
"fancy meeting you here."
"i should've figured that the drunken mess at the reception and the drunken mess in the bathroom were one and the same."
"are you always this rude to your elders?"
"i'm only polite to those who actually act older than me."
the boy flashes him an assenting grin and starts washing his face, slicking his hair back and gargling obnoxiously.
he brushes past changmin for more paper towels, stops and turns back around
"the cologne you showered in is going to make me hurl again."
"at least i don't smell like sleazy date rape bar in the middle of cat piss alley."
the boy looks impressed, and holds his hand out to changmin, "well played."
"i try." changmin looks down and his hand is still wet but he shakes it anyway, and it's gross and slimy, so changmin pulls away first and the boy wipes his hands on his trousers.
"park yoochun."
"shim changmin."
"come with me to the roof."
"what."
"or you can go back out there and kiss ass the rest of the night if that's your thing. no judgment."
[three]
changmin's not completely sure why he's agreed to accompany this yoochun in the first place, but he finds himself a willing accomplice to a joint act of vandalism against the boarded-up roof door with an effective combination of body slamming and a series of well-placed kicks.
after the door gives, yoochun whoops in victory and pins changmin's arms to his side into a tight rib crushing hug and changmin feels the happiest he's been in a long time.
they find a spot far enough from the large amounts of bird shit and close enough the edge to enjoy the view, still laughing, adrenaline making him dizzy. yoochun pushes his knees to his chest and changmin dangles his feet over the edge. yoochun smokes a cigarette and they sit in silence for a while. changmin notices the glow of his cigarette is brighter than any of the city lights
"you want one?"
"no, it's okay."
yoochun fumbles for something on the inside of his suit jacket and pulls out a flask
"you want some?"
changmin shakes his head. yoochun shrugs unscrews the top takes a swig
"i was gonna spike the drinks and get one of these girls to put out. didn't really expect the punch bowl to be a geriatric watering hole."
"good thing my sisters decided to stay home then."
pity, if they're even half as cute as you, yoochun leers. changmin changes the subject
"what are you doing here?"
"younger brother graduated. well, mostly because my parents didn't want me home alone."
"what do you do? you have a job, right?"
"professional thrill seeker." yoochun takes another swallow
"professional burden on society, you mean."
"you're going to piss your pants if i tell you the truth."
"i won't."
"seriously though."
"okay i promise, i promise. tell me."
"i write...romance novels."
changmin immediately breaks his promise and snorts into his palm and laughs and laughs because it all makes so much sense now of course yoochun would drink himself into oblivion at a graduation party and act like every high-school cliché in existence because he writes romance novels for fuck's sake
"you're lucky i've desensitized myself to this exact reaction, otherwise you'd be splattered on the pavement." yoochun says
changmin is still laughing "wh-wha- how did you eve- that is the most-"
"i'll have you know my works have been very well received in the 18-30 female demographic."
changmin is close to crying so he grabs the flask from yoochun's hand takes a large mouthful and only when it burns down his throat does he catch his breath enough to say
"what are you working on now?" with as straight a face as he can
"a steamy bodice ripper set in the late goryeo dynasty."
"WHAT. y- you have to be lying." changmin downs the rest
"please do not insult my craft."
"nonono, i'm sure you're good at what you do."
"i probably have to give it up anyways."
"how do you mean?"
"parents gave me an ultimatum. get a real job that won't make your ancestors die again in shame before your brother graduates otherwise we're kicking you out."
"and?"
"well, as of," yoochun pulls changmin's left arm across his body and squints at the watch in the darkness "four hours ago, i've been in the market for a roof over my head."
yoochun's fingers stay loosely curled around his hand, thumb resting on the inside of his wrist against his pulse
changmin doesn't know what his intentions are when he blurts out "i'm starting an entry level thing at an architectural firm tomorrow and i just put down a lease on an apartment not too far from here."
"really?" changmin hears the unspoken question in his voice and
"come home with me,"
yoochun raises an eyebrow at him, his expression taking on something that makes changmin shiver and then he realizes he just accidentally propositioned him and maybe it wasn't a good idea to be so gung-ho about finishing the rest of that alcohol if stupid shit like that came out of his mouth before it even got close to his bloodstream
"no- wait, fuck. what i meant was that i have a couch for you to sleep on until you get your shit together. so you don't end up in a gutter somewhere." he clarifies
and any trace of that fleeting look that yoochun had given him seconds before disappears and is replaced by a shit-eating grin and changmin is enveloped in an enthusiastic, awkward side hug
"seriously? you're the best! none of my so-called fucking friends were picking up their phones and," yoochun hugs him tighter, "and i thought i would have to sleep on a bench! oh you've rescued me oh my prince in shining armor!"
"please keep your romance novel dialogue to yourself - ow fuck your chin is digging into my shoulder get off."
[four]
changmin wakes to a shift in the bed and the smell of sweat and skunked beer breath on the side of his face. his eyes slowly adjust to the darkness and he sees yoochun studying him fiercely, his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth in sloppy concentration. changmin's heart starts racing, ohshitohshitohshit i brought home a homicidal maniac he's going to cut me open pop my lungs and eat my heart
"think of this as a deposit." yoochun mutters against the shell of his ear, leans closer and puts his hand down changmin's boxers, his stroke whispering of warmth and experience
changmin narrowly avoids choking on a sudden influx of air
"i don't- i'm not- nrgh!" and rolls of the bed, stumbling onto his feet. he catches his breath and stares down at yoochun, still drunk and now shirtless, belt unbuckled looking up at him with wide, gosh i hope i didn't do anything wrong but i guess i did eyes. changmin doesn't know what to do, what to say, because oh god what is there to say. i'm still a virgin let's take it slow? oh so you like boys too? i've entertained the possibility of gay sex once or twice but sorry i really really like breasts?
he is somewhat relieved when yoochun speaks first, low and apologetic.
"i just thought. thought that, you know, you were- wanted to. i mean, you don't know even know me that well and you let me crash, so i was really happy and you were so nice and. i just wanted to, i dunno. thank you somehow."
yoochun trails off gloomily and changmin feels like he should be angrier, but his throat is dry and he really doesn't know how to continue whatever this is except with a completely inappropriate for the situation witty repartee
"a thank you card might have been a little more well-received than an unsolicited handjob."
he adds a little chuckle at the end for good measure but yoochun is still quiet and so changmin stands there waiting, feeling more helpless by the second.
after what seems like forever, yoochun gets up off the bed and picks up his white dress shirt from the floor shrugs it on and starts buttoning from the top down
suddenly, changmin's heart drops and he stammers
"wh- where are you going?"
yoochun looks at him like he is even stupider than he already feels
"you don't want me here."
"i never said that," yoochun continues adjusting his pants, so changmin insists
"i want you to stay. just. um. keep your hands to yourself please."
almost in slow motion
yoochun's lips twitch upwards and he starts laughing, this deep open-mouthed muscle straining laughter and he collapses back onto the bed, shaking uncontrollably. the awkwardness of the situation dissipates and changmin joins him until they're both nearly on top of one another. yoochun pushes the hair out of his eyes and wipes away tears of laughter from his face, gasps
"sorry for molesting you!"
"easily the worst graduation present ever!"
"it would've been the best if you didn't stop me!"
"EW GROSS."
changmin's face hurts by the time he regains some composure, and after a minute of sporadic giggling, he glances at the digital clock on his bedside table and turns back to yoochun
"hey look i start work tomorrow and it's really important that i get some sleep. i'll be gone by 7, so help yourself to the fridge. the faucet in the bathroom leaks so please turn it off tightly."
"anything else?" yoochun props his head up on his elbow and his eyes sparkle
"um."
"yeah?"
"i meant what i said about the hands to yourself thing."
yoochun laughs again and gives changmin a playful shove and a 'you don't know what you're missing out on' before he hoists himself up and heads to the couch.
[five]
the line between temporary house guest and roommate must have been blurrier than changmin thought because even while witnessing
how yoochun claimed the couch as his own (he even brought pillows and a blanket which were obviously a remnant of yoochun's infancy - a fact that changmin felt was entertaining enough to comment on - "IT IS NOT." yoochun denied a little too loudly)
the suitcases that appeared suddenly in the living room and disappeared just as quickly
the way he would slip on the water yoochun left on the bathroom floor after taking a shower
the old cheap coffeemaker that now made its home on his countertop ('got it for a measly 5 bucks at a garage sale, but it still makes the best coffee i've ever had,')
changmin still didn't quite realize what was going on until
"okay, so how much?"
"how much what?"
"rent. i'm paying half."
"no. not really."
"why not?"
"if i were to hypothetically go along with this, it would still be an illegal sublet."
"i won't tell if you don't."
"do you know how much i would be fined if someone reported us?"
"please." yoochun implores, and changmin looks at the couch, the threadbare blanket rumpled at one end
"if anyone asks, you're my out of town friend staying for a night or two. and make yourself scarce around the neighbors."
"oh baby i never kiss and tell."
"doubt it. it's 500, second friday of every month."
[six]
in the mornings, yoochun is always up before him, but never really quite as awake. they don't speak and it is a sort of content silence, the morning traffic punctuating changmin's early morning rituals. after brushing his teeth he always goes into the living room for yoochun's go ahead with his business casual get-up of the day. yoochun usually nods his approval, but sometimes he goes with changmin to his closet and hands him something else. changmin never wonders why he takes fashion advice from someone who will wear the same thing for a week straight until or unless he forcibly takes the clothing and hides them at the bottom of the laundry hamper. it's okay though, because the secretaries at work always compliment him on how nice he looks.
in his cubicle, changmin collates staples answers the phone and sets up meetings with contractors.
on his lunch break, he sits in the corner of the company cafeteria and sketches long hallways of gothic arcades, intricate cofferings made up of layered tetragons, rows and rows of penrose stairs, confusing and neverending
on wednesday, the cute secretary over from human resources sits down two tables away and it's not like he hasn't overheard how he's the boy all of them want to take home to mother. he focuses on the small silver cross settled in between her starched collar and watches how her throat moves when she swallows
she blushes when he looks up into her eyes and he realizes that it must seem like he's looking at her chest like some lecher but she doesn't mind that much though because one day he'll ask her out to coffee and she'll say yes and he'll stoop down to kiss her when he walks her back and she'll join him for lunch every day afterwards
he doesn't bring his sketchbook to work anymore leaves it underneath his bed because spending time with her listening to her talk holding her hand makes much more sense for a boy his age anyways.
he keeps refusing his parents' offer to buy him a car so changmin always walks home from the bus in the evenings, takes dark out of the way alleys and looks into the faces of strangers, some that look straight ahead, some that twitch their lips in a smile and he imagines having one night affairs with each and every one of them, wonders if yoochun would write him a story with stilletos and a coquette
he likes the small decrepit holes in the wall, the x's created by the boarding up of doors and the florid displays of mismatched graffiti most likely a product of rebellious boredom than any real intention to create art but changmin still thinks it's beautiful admires how the curves of aeresol paint dip into the recesses of crumbling brick, into the grain of decomposing wood
when he comes home, yoochun will be sitting at the small plastic kitchen table tapping away rythmically at the keys of his computer, feet up on the only other chair
they meet in the middle, right by the couch, and yoochun asks how his day went and changmin usually gives him three to four word answers, and some days when changmin's gives only one word answers
yoochun hugs him and rests his head in the crook of changmin's neck like he's missed him for months years even and whispers things like this new plot twist is gonna knock these publishers dead or i went to the library to do some research or i couldn't get shit written today, i'm never going to meet this deadline
changmin likes these greetings best especially when he learns to slowly lean into them
yoochun usually makes dinner but he is easily distracted when an idea comes to him and he runs to the computer to type it up, so changmin has to supervise, dividing his attention between the stove, the television, and way yoochun's fingers hover above the keyboard in anticipation
changmin sets the table by placing all his papers and both their computers on the floor because the table isn't big enough to hold both food and work. they grow accustomed to sharing a beer or two, stealing sips and tasting the greasiness of the food and each other on the edge of the metal can. yoochun never makes enough food, so changmin occasionally has to borrow some of yoochun's. yoochun smiles and pretends not to notice even though they both know he does
after dinner they sit together on the table with their respective work in front of them, yoochun turning on the stereo he also dragged over from his house. at first they used to argue about what kind of music they should play but now changmin remains quiet when yoochun plays slow ballads and taps his foot along to his thunkathunk dance numbers. the hours they spend here blend together like underneath the sea where time doesn't really matter so changmin is always surprised when he looks up at the clock
by midnight or half past at latest, changmin is organizing his papers into his portfolio, sending and saving e-mails. he brushes his teeth, takes a shower and changes into pajamas, goes back into the kitchen and tries to sneak a look over yoochun's shoulder. but all he ever gets are flashes of historical background, maybe some mention of court intrigue before yoochun slams the top shut and commands changmin to bed, please mind his own damn business, thanks and goodnight. changmin always tells yoochun to not stay up too late even though he knows that he will
changmin's parents call every sunday afternoon. they ask when they can visit and his mother says she wants to make him a real home-cooked meal. changmin answers that he's been really busy and will let them know later. you're not lonely, are you? his mother asks. he answers, no, i'm not.
[seven]
changmin comes home on a particularly dreary thursday, sets his bag on the floor and sees yoochun typing furiously next to a glass bowl
"what is this."
"you mean our new roommate?"
changmin sits down opposite yoochun and stares at the little beige and gold-finned fish through the glass. it stares back and gives changmin an enthusiastic 'o' with its lips before wiggling off to play with its reflection.
"you should've asked me."
yoochun looks up and pushes his laptop to the the side. he places his cheek on the table, looks at changmin sideways through the fishbowl
"oh come on, she's so low maintenance! gives me great feedback too!"
"so what does she think of your literary genius?" changmin asks yoochun through the water and a stray piece of aquatic foliage
"she told me not to quit my day job." yoochun replies miserably
"writing is your day job." changmin snickers
"yeah. i guess that's why she wasn't as excited as i thought she would be when i knighted her 'park yoochun's super awesome number one official muse'."
"how do you know it's a girl?"
"fins are smaller, colors are less bright than a male's. they're less popular though."
"what's her name?"
"our fish."
"i know that, but what-"
"no, her name is 'our fish'."
"wow you really don't have any creativity left." changmin groans
"i think it has a nice ring to it. 'hey changmin, it's time to feed our fish!', 'hey changmin, our fish needs a water change!', 'isn't our fish precious, changmin-ah?'or 'our fish says goodbye and be careful on the way to work and don't forget to pick up some orange juice, changmin!'"
changmin can't help his smile or the thought that yoochun's fish - no, 'our fish', changmin mentally corrects himself - is kind of cute.
he watches yoochun play a game of hide and seek with his finger delicate and playful on his side of the glass, enamored and gazing like a doting father at her little dances back and forth across the bowl. changmin catches himself staring at the slight part of his lips, so he stretches his legs underneath the dining table and arms above his head, announcing that he feels like fish for dinner.
yoochun gasps and covers the top of the fishbowl with his hands, jaw open and accusing
"HOW DARE YOU. WHAT IF SHE HEARD."
changmin looks back down at the fish bowl. she blows a bubble happily at him.
"nah."
[eight]
"how do you afford such mass quantities of alcohol?" changmin asks.
yoochun wiggles his eyebrows mysteriously at him. changmin sighs, returns to his cad drawings
"CHANGMIIIIIN. can i tell you secret?" yoochun slurs
"if it involves your nether regions, no."
"i don't even have a good reason for drinking this much! because i'm not depressed - fuck that one time in high school they didn't even prescribe me the good shit - nor am i really that fucked up and i don't have any weird repression issues...i think."
"maybe you just like how it makes you feel."
"maybe. and also 'cause food tastes like a billion times better when you're fucked up."
"uh-huh."
"and girls taste better. boys too. cigarettes. girls boys cigarettes everything."
[nine]
yoochun leaves him a note on the fridge, he's going out with some friends, don't miss him too much he'll be back soon. changmin looks around the small empty apartment, both their papers strewn across the table, a plastic bowl of half-eaten ramen next to a half-full glass of orange juice on the countertop. it takes two seconds to clean this up, changmin mutters to himself as he does it for him.
he looks around the apartment and it seems like he's missing something. it finally hits him that he has the apartment to himself. alone. no more bathroom quickies or sheepishly bringing in the computer to his bedroom for 15 minute intervals
he heads to his bedroom and leaves the door open, a kind of tribute to his temporary independence, bringing his computer with him. he opens clip after clip, high definition close-ups of silicone and wetness, third rate monosyllabic dialogue barely legal high-school sluts and he finds himself half hard, not quite getting there but not for lack of trying
something possesses him to abandon his computer and walk to the couch. he sits down, presses his nose against yoochun's blanket his smell strong in the cotton, soft against his face
then he lies face down thrusts himself hard against the couch gasping against the slow friction burn, his hand the only thing between him and the phantom of yoochun and when he comes harder than he has ever before, his tongue is dry from scraping against the polyester of the pillow
when he gets up, he sees their fish looking at him or maybe it's just his shame as he looks at the come on his hand and the small spot that managed to get on the couch
after minutes of furious scrubbing, changmin manages to reduce the stain to a small discoloration at the edge of the cushion. when he hears yoochun fumbling with his keys outside the door, he sits up a little straighter in his chair and focuses his eyes on the tv. yoochun catches his eye and smiles; changmin fills his mouth with food and gives him a hey what's up nod.
yoochun splays himself across the couch, and the food gets stuck in changmin's throat as he wills yoochun to please not notice the new addition to the upholstery because if you ask, i might blurt out something extremely inconvenient like oh yeah, totally slipped my mind, today i used the couch that you sleep on every day as a masturbatory aid because it smelled like you and not something reasonable like spilled some soda, sorry about that, i'll get it steam cleaned asap
fortunately, yoochun says nothing as he starts watching the evening news program changmin has turned to. "you can change the channel if you want." "no, it's okay, go 'head." "no, really. i'm not watching it." "ok, thanks."
yoochun flips and dismisses channels for a good thirty seconds before he settles on a well-lit bourgeois apartment, a doe-eyed pink-mouthed girl with tears running down her face contemplating herself in a large mirror. "oh my god, changmin you have to come watch this, i think she's going to tell her fiance that she cheated on him with her high-school sweetheart! i've been waiting for this forever!"
changmin hides a smile and instead plops himself on the other end of the couch, rolling his eyes, "i guess there's no accounting for taste."
yoochun distractedly swats at his arm, immersed.
changmin looks down and tries ignores the twist in his lower stomach when he sees yoochun's hand splayed near the stain, his ring and index fingers touching the edge.
"she's totally going to tell him!" yoochun declares after a cut to commercial, moving closer to changmin and wrapping his arm around his shoulders. he smiles a victorious grin in changmin's direction: "you know how i know?"
"well, the camera's been panning to the telephone every 5 seconds, so that may or may not be a clue." changmin replies, ignoring the fact that yoochun is sitting in the very same spot that he did, well- he did that in a couple hours ago
"no! she just put on the earrings her fiancé gave her for their 2 year anniversary so what that means is that she's going to call him and ask him to meet her somewhere - probably the park that they had their first kiss in or the cafe that they always go to? no, probably the park, better backdrop, more privacy - so, anyways, she's going to wear the earrings and say something like, i love you, and i'll always love you, but i can't marry you. and tell him about in-yeul, take the earrings off slowly, place it in his hand and say something along the lines of 'please give this to someone who deserves you' and then walk away."
yoochun is right, of course, down to the smallest detail. changmin is astonished and when the credits start rolling
"wait so you just watch the previews for next episode and just piece the rest together, right?"
"nope, i don't." yoochun starts flipping channels again
"then why do you watch these things if you know how exactly they're going to turn out?"
yoochun playfully tugs at changmin's earlobe as he gets up and tosses the remote into his lap, heading to the refrigerator. "because it's still more exciting than the evening news."
"it's called CULTURING oneself," changmin yells after him. "everything isn't about perfect first kisses and high-school sweethearts and falling in love. there's a real world out there with real problems." when it all comes out changmin realizes he hadn't meant to say that much so he looks back down at the couch and covers the stain with his palm and
"i know, and it totally sucks. i prefer escapism," yoochun flops back down with a tumbler filled with ice and cheap yellow wine. "especially the alcohol-induced kind."
later on when he can't sleep because of the flickering of the television and something else he tries to ignore, changmin trips over a discarded shoe, not his of course, to see if yoochun is asleep. he is, facedown on his stomach, hands cradling his head so changmin turns off the television and lulls himself to sleep to thoughts of a park in the early evening with purple hyacinths bending in the wind and yoochun's hands.
[ten]
a conversation only one of them remembers:
why haven't you tried anything on me again, changmin asks yoochun one weekend night prompted by six bottles and four shots of courage
because i really like you, yoochun replies while starting up a game of finger hockey with a bottle cap
what the hell, changmin says out loud wondering if he's entered another dimension where he can't get a goddamn straight answer
i've never tried anything with someone i really like, yoochun replies, scoring a goal with his left hand and not looking him in the eye
you are an idiot, changmin mumbles
so i've been told, yoochun sighs
[eleven]
"i'm moonlighting as a bartender!" yoochun declares, his hands full with bags of celebration takeout
"someone gave you a real job?" changmin jabs in mock incredulity
yoochun starts unpacking the cartons, handing changmin a pair of chopsticks, still just as excited, "yeah, and i start today. 10 to 4 shift. you should come down and provide me with moral support."
"trust me, you don't need any support. i seen the way you work those bottles. i have a project due tomorrow anyways." the last part is a lie.
yoochun gives him the address anyways.
changmin is restless by midnight, sleep not coming, work unfinished. he puts on a black shirt and jeans and walks to the bar
it's not classy by any means, the music stale and uninspired, the dance floor filled with cheap plastic hoop earrings
he sees yoochun and he slinks down, trying to make himself shorter
and quickly finds himself a corner away from the trajectory of the strobe lights.
he watches yoochun, the way he leans in to the customer just so. the half smile of charm and levity after enough drunken confessions, the brush of fingers always lingering half a second too long when he's tipped a little more than necessary. changmin thinks if he were the type to wax poetic, he'd describe yoochun as the kind of bartender perfect for falling madly in love with
until last call anyways.
changmin leaves around 2, hands jammed into his pockets, wonders if yoochun would write him a story with strong arms and a boy whose hair curls at the nape of his neck.
[twelve]
the way you're burning a hole through your screen right now it kinda looks like you're writing a dissertation on quantum mechanics instead of back of the bookstore erotica, observes changmin over instant noodles, looking up from his blueprints
i don't think you understand the subtleties of what i do, yoochun dismisses, sending him a withering look over the top of his computer.
well let's see. wanton tongues battling for dominance, caressing milky alabaster skin, heaving breasts, hardened buds of erect nipples, pulsating wetness, hot throbbing manhood, changmin moans as lasciviously as he can, then sits back in his chair, pleased.
any amateur can write the whole wham bam thank you m'aam, yoochun retorts but his annoyance is tempered by the beginnings of wicked smile.
oh really. then please do shower your gems of knowledge upon me, changmin leans forward and rests his head on his hands facetiously, likening himself to doe-eyed overly eager school child.
it's all about the build-up, yoochun replies as he closes the top of his computer, looking at changmin seriously. you can't construct a building without a solid foundation right? it's the same here. you want the reader to invest. flesh out the dynamic between the two characters. draw it out so that the sexual tension is palpable because the climax is nothing without the smoldering looks--
yoochun looks at changmin with the most exaggerated bedroom eyes he's ever seen and wets his lips slowly with his tongue and it would be hilarious, if wasn't fucking working
-the light, semi-accidental grazes of skin-
yoochun's knee brushes against changmin's underneath the table
-the small details indicating availability, want-
yoochun undoes another button down his shirt, places his hand delicately against his chest and flirtatiously cranes his neck sideways so changmin is immediately drawn down the curvature of his shoulder and the way his fingertips ghost across his skin underneath the fabric (shit, he is good at this, he thinks)
-and then the more...explicit overtures-
yoochun runs his foot along the inside of changmin's left leg, against the exposed skin of his calf then slowly past his knee, the inside of his thigh, mere inches away and changmin can do nothing but stare at yoochun and swallow the extra spit in his mouth and he moves slightly forward to get closer
but yoochun abruptly pulls away, pushes back his chair
-and then you sprinkle in some conflict, a little plot and there ya go-
changmin clears his throat, sobers up
-a heart pounding take away breath stomach flip romance.
[thirteen]
the next day, changmin has an after dinner coffee with the secretary, asked her impulsively, i know we didn't have any plans today but he knows yoochun isn't going to be home tonight. the place is nice and quaint, her fuzzy blue cardigan perfect against the pastel decor. after she finishes picking at her pastry, he asks her and tries to be confident
"will you come home with me tonight?"
she turns pink and nods yes, and changmin puts his hand on top of hers.
when they walk home together, they hold hands and he tries to make small talk with her. he sees that she is nervous and he tries to be as sympathetic as possible, even softening his voice a little so he can hide the fact that he is nervous too
he turns the key and the lock clicks open.
she walks in first and stops short, changmin walks in, confused. he follows her gaze
and he sees the dishes piled up, the scattering of books and papers all over the floor and couch, the water stains underneath the sink, the ashtray on the table and stale smell of cigarettes after changmin told yoochun to stop smoking on the stoop because people would see, the empty bottles shoved into a carboard box
he asks her if anything is wrong, knows the answer already
"i didn't know you smoked."
"i don't. my roommate does."
"you have a roommate? you never told me."
"he isn't around much."
changmin doesn't feel like talking about yoochun anymore, doesn't want to play him off as someone insignificant, because he was everywhere, in the cracks of the ceiling, the sheets stretched across his bed, the fingerprints on the tie he was wearing
changmin brings her into the bedroom, and they both sit down on the edge of the bed. he starts kissing her, insistent, running his hands across her cardigan, her chest
she pulls away, breathless
"i-- i can't."
changmin doesn't feel anything close to disappointment
"i just- i didn't expect you to live like this."
she looks down and changmin is sure she's never going to call him again and this little relationship they had would soon turn into awkwardly avoiding eachother, maybe a pleasantry or two. the rest of the girls at the office will know that he lives in squalor and makes up fake roommates to hide the fact that he's a filthy smoker and is nothing at all like the pristine clean-cut boy that he presents himself as.
she leaves and changmin surveys the apartment again and agrees that yes, it is a shithole
the bastard's brought me down to his level, he thinks
but i think i'm okay with that.
[fourteen]
i totally see through your snappy one-liners, you know. yoochun, reflective.
uh-huh. changmin, skeptical.
all a big front. you're transparent like glass
what? that behind the cynical facade i'm actually scared of falling in love because i might get hurt and i'll have to own up to my susceptivity in regards to matters of the heart?
well actually, i was going to say a desperate virgin who has enough porn in the folder named 'sketches to review' to satisfy a small standing army
what the fuck, you went through my stuff?
did no one ever teach you rule number one? never ever put the porn folder on the desktop. and aha! so you admit that you are in fact a card-carrying member of the virgin club
i happen to have a very attractive girl's number in my dresser drawer
why are you not on that yet
well you know, been busy
i call bullshi- ... what was that?
mouth to mouth rescucitation, what do you think it was
are you sure? i don't want to-
yes i'm sure
is this going to make things weird between us?
weirder than it already is?
i'm just worried that-
i know you get off on being a tragic hero or whatever but i'd like a resolution because i really like you too
oh.
yeah.
then can you wait until my mouth is closed the next time you try to kiss me
fuck you at least i had the balls to try
you have some nerve kissing me with that dirty mouth
yoochun
yeah
can you stop stalling, let's please just-
[fifteen]
they kiss three times a day. it's almost domesticated, like playing house in kindergarten and cooking with plastic blocks.
when changmin leaves in the morning, yoochun puts his arms around his waist and kisses him against the door, his eyes close as if trying to fall asleep and changmin always keeps his eyes open and watches the flutter of his eyelashes and presses his hands against the soft tangles of yoochun's hair. yoochun always pulls away first and wishes him a good day
when changmin comes home, yoochun pulls him into a hug like always, now moving his head from his shoulder, kisses him slow and studious, mumbling about how many pages he wrote today and sometimes changmin runs his hands underneath his shirt urgent for something more, but yoochun always pulls away first when changmin presses his hips against his, something sad and ferocious in his eyes
when changmin is about to go to sleep, he walks behind yoochun as he's typing and pulls his head towards him, hoping that yoochun will join him in his bed tonight, will get up out of his chair. yoochun only kisses him like it's goodbye, moans against him but keeps his hands to his side. when yoochun's tongue touches the roof of his mouth, he thinks that they both have a lot of growing up to do.
in bed, he thinks of telling yoochun
i want to kiss you all the time and i think about you on the way to work, at work, coming home from work, even when you are in front of me, are you just content with just this?
this is not what i want
i don't want straight edges right angles and gridlines (like me)
i want something wild chaotic and inconvenient (like you)
[sixteen]
changmin sees rolled up black sleeves behind the sink moving under running water, purposefully short messy peroxide blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and yoochun leaning against the counter speaking soft and easy to the faceless guest.
he closes the door as loudly as he can without slamming it and yoochun swerves his head, jogs over, greets him with a comfortable hug. changmin keeps his eyes to the back of the head and slim body in the kitchen, now turning off the faucets - changmin whispers to yoochun, who is that? - oh, that's jaejoong, he works with me at the bar, i hope you don't mind that i brought him here, i thought you were staying at your parents' tonight? - they're having guests over. wait. he? that's a - and then jaejoong turns from the sink and changmin thinks that he's never seen a man's mouth that shaped that way.
"finally, my two favorite people come face to face! changmin, jaejoong. jaejoong, changmin."
jaejoong smiles, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and when he walks towards him changmin feels reduced traction unexpected turbulence low visibility
he wants to shout what the hell are you doing here get out, but yoochun is smiling, hand on changmin's elbow ecstatic to catalyze the introductions
"hi. i've heard a lot about you."
he can't say likewise because yoochun's never mentioned him, not even in passing
"nice to meet you. oh. you didn't have to-" changmin gestures to the sink and now clean dishes "-do that. we usually just eat out of recyclable materials anyway."
jaejoong laughs and changmin half hates the sound, half wants to hear it again
yoochun looks at changmin approvingly and says
"i've wanted you guys to meet for a long time, but the timing was never right," but yoochun looks like he's apologizing for something other than scheduling conflicts "and jaejoong made us a home-cooked meal, changmin!"
changmin smiles as genuinely as he can, "you really shouldn't have."
jaejoong shakes his head, "no, no it's my pleasure, i guess it's my way of thanking you-" he places his arm on the small of yoochun's back, familiar and (possessive?), "-because i know how this one is a lazy slob, so thank you for taking care of him."
yoochun shoves him away playfully. so this is where the plot thickens, changmin thinks.
"nice fish you have here," jaejoong nods toward the fishbowl. changmin wonders if he's only imagining the hint of condescension in his voice, throws a sidelong glance at yoochun, and corrects
"it's our fish."
"oh?" jaejoong smiles at yoochun, his eyebrow delicately arched in question and yoochun nods.
after serving the food, jaejoong sits next to yoochun under the small dinner table and changmin faces them both, although he can barely see them through the copious amounts of alcohol on the table. changmin doesn't drink so as to avoid saying something extremely rude and uncalled for directed to jaejoong when he leans his head on yoochun's shoulder and puts his hand on his thigh.
jaejoong is a chameleon-like character as he becomes louder and quieter at the same time, more boisterous and shy as he drinks more, asking if changmin has a girlfriend - no? boyfriend then? - yoochun and changmin avoid each other's eyes on that question and jaejoong takes note, but says nothing.
yoochun becomes more affectionate with jaejoong as they gossip about the patrons that frequent the bar, and jaejoong eats it up. yoochun stops every now and then to look at changmin, unreadable. changmin doesn't know whether he wants him or wants to kill him.
changmin watches them and sees how two jagged edges fit together. amorphous ridges can fill apertures. he looks at his designs on the coffee table and thinks that straight lines of office buildings and the edges of a cliff can only have limited points of intersection.
when changmin has supposedly retired for the night, he cracks open his door and sees the wet thirsty kisses that he has wanted for so long, jaejoong in yoochun's lap on their couch, yoochun straining his neck like he wants to swallow him whole. jaejoong comes up for air and laughs,
"that changmin sure is territorial, isn't he?"
yoochun doesn't answer, pushes jaejoong back to his lips. clothes come off, and he can't help but to be awed at how they claw at each other, the very definition of blinding lust
the arch of jaejoong's back and the hot breathy exhale moans are almost pornographic and changmin keeps watching because this is making his blood boil his head spin, the sheer intimacy of the moment and the secret way they shuddered against each other.
[seventeen]
"am i just the wife you come home to?"
"what are you talking about?"
"i saw you and jaejoong."
"shit. fuck, i knew we shouldn't have- listen. me and jaejoong are just-"
"just fucking."
"yeah. we are just fucking. it's nothing. please believe me."
"i want you out of here in two weeks."
"are you serious?"
"yeah."
"i really like you."
"i don't really care."
changmin would've been angrier if the entire situation wasn't so fucking cheesy and straight out yoochun's bullshit shows.
[eighteen]
they avoid each other for the next week, yoochun conveniently out when changmin wakes up in the morning and comes back home. changmin orders take out every day and couple of supervisors even asked if everything was okay with him. yoochun's belongings slowly disappear one by one, his apartment cleaner and cleaner.
yoochun has 4 days left to move out when changmin comes home and sees him scrutinizing their fish, he looks up concerned when he registers changmin's presence
"look. i know you don't want to talk to me. but there's something wrong with her."
changmin walks over and feels a lump of guilt as he remembers forgetting about her for an entire week. he sees white blossoms opaque and blotchy on her skin, feels sick to his stomach when he sees a cloudiness in her eyes and the lopsided, distended belly.
they walk to the pet store together in silence, with yoochun holding the bowl. the attendant tells them it's probably something called dropsy and an advanced bacterial infection. so there's no medicine or anything, changmin asks. so she's just going to die, yoochun says angrily. the shopkeeper looks at them funny, because it's just a 3 dollar fish and they die all the time.
they leave and yoochun walks even more carefully back.
yoochun has 2 days left to move out when changmin find him on the couch, silent. he looks for the glass bowl and he finds it empty, sparkling from water and soap on the counter and his heart falters
he sits beside yoochun on the couch and
"you're crying?" he laughs, but it isn't particularly funny
"shut up okay. she was my muse."
"we can get another one."
"no. she was my favourite, i spent 20 minutes looking for one that was perfect. and there's no we, remember? i'm moving in with a friend tomorrow."
"jaejoong?"
"no, i quit the bartending thing. haven't talked to him." silence. changmin feels like his draft is finished, the story is almost over
"do you really like me?" changmin asks
"i really really like you. maybe a little in love with you." yoochun answers
[nineteen]
when he pushes into yoochun, changmin whispers into the pillow are you okay am i doing this right is this way okay i can stop if you want. (fuck, how are you letting me do this?) yoochun doesn't answer but pulls him in by the nape of his neck, closer, eyes squeezed shut, until their chests are pressed together.
[twenty]
if you built me a house, what would it look like?
just like ours
if you wrote me a love story, how would it go?
just like this
8385; r; au
yoochun/changmin
a love confession from me to
florentineeggs
[one]
he spills his drink on the arm of changmin's new silk shirt and his own scuffed shoes. oh fuck, shit i'm so sorry, the apologies loud and profuse, wiping at changmin's elbow with his own shirt sleeve. changmin bows his head, his smile forced and polite hoping to cancel out the profanities behind him and disengages himself from his congratulatory aunt.
changmin turns to find not a classmate, but a rather disconcerted looking mess of black hair and wrinkled trousers still scrubbing away at his sleeve. changmin pulls his arm away as graciously as he can and the boy's overly concerned expression quickly melts into something mischievous as he meets changmin's eyes
"oh. i thought you were someone important."
changmin stares as he is given a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and an offhanded suggestion to put some seltzer water on it and changmin smells his shirt and no that definitely isn't fruit juice.
the boy turns and weaves in between various other classmates and collides into a dumpy woman with an hand full of little napkin appetizers and nearly runs over a toddler (it takes a certain caliber of asshole to get drunk at a high-school graduation party, changmin thinks) and he almost calls out "wait you jerk" after the boy but he swallows it as quickly as he thinks it because what would he say if he turned around?
out of some sort of basic propriety, changmin forces himself to take the time to thank every teacher that crosses his line of sight for their knowledge and support and in return they all give him some variation on the generic oh you were such a bright boy i'm certain you'll have an even brighter future please do keep in touch. by the seventh go-around he is tired and his teeth hurt from all the smiling so he quickly formulates an escape to the bathroom
en route he runs into a classmate of his, a heart-faced girl with a new and unfortunate haircut, blunt and severe in all the wrong places. the torch she had carried for him since middle school had only burned brighter as the years passed and it was only after considering the prospect of never having to awkwardly carry on a conversation with her ever again that changmin tells himself to stand still and look interested.
he doesn't realize until her hand brushes against his that she was confessing to him, that yes, she really has liked him all this time, and only just now she's mustered up the courage to let him know, because well, maybe she'll never see him again and
now it's his turn
oh, um, stumbles changmin. thanks?
the girl beams at him and he searches desperately for a familiar face in the nearby vicinity
when he comes up empty, he looks back at her with a "that's...that's really nice of you."
the girl takes out a piece of yellow stationary from her dainty purse. meticulously folded who knows how many times into a perfect tiny square with his name written on it, small and round with sparkly pink pen.
she blushes and hands it to him with both her arms outstretched.
"i really hope you'll call."
[two]
changmin pushes open the door to the bathroom and thankfully it's empty so he washes his hands, adjusts his crooked tie, pokes the dark puffy circles underneath his eyes, even more obvious under the painfully fluorescent lights.
just as he's about to head over to the urinal he hears the unmistakable sob and gag of vomit then the splash of water followed by heavy breathing and a tentative silence
changmin tilts himself to see if he can catch a glimpse, but he's all the way over in the corner stall, so changmin offers a
"hey, are you okay?"
he's answered by another round of offerings to the toilet god and changmin grimaces.
he grabs a bunch of paper towels from the dispenser and walks over the stall and sees a pair of worn soles in the mirror, a piece of once red gum stuck to the right heel now dirty and gray. he passes the paper towels underneath the gap and is mumbled a "thanks."
after a flush or two and the rustling of clothing, the door swings open and changmin is greeted by the boy from before, his hair an even bigger mess now sweaty and sticking to his forehead lips wet but he doesn't miss a beat when he says
"fancy meeting you here."
"i should've figured that the drunken mess at the reception and the drunken mess in the bathroom were one and the same."
"are you always this rude to your elders?"
"i'm only polite to those who actually act older than me."
the boy flashes him an assenting grin and starts washing his face, slicking his hair back and gargling obnoxiously.
he brushes past changmin for more paper towels, stops and turns back around
"the cologne you showered in is going to make me hurl again."
"at least i don't smell like sleazy date rape bar in the middle of cat piss alley."
the boy looks impressed, and holds his hand out to changmin, "well played."
"i try." changmin looks down and his hand is still wet but he shakes it anyway, and it's gross and slimy, so changmin pulls away first and the boy wipes his hands on his trousers.
"park yoochun."
"shim changmin."
"come with me to the roof."
"what."
"or you can go back out there and kiss ass the rest of the night if that's your thing. no judgment."
[three]
changmin's not completely sure why he's agreed to accompany this yoochun in the first place, but he finds himself a willing accomplice to a joint act of vandalism against the boarded-up roof door with an effective combination of body slamming and a series of well-placed kicks.
after the door gives, yoochun whoops in victory and pins changmin's arms to his side into a tight rib crushing hug and changmin feels the happiest he's been in a long time.
they find a spot far enough from the large amounts of bird shit and close enough the edge to enjoy the view, still laughing, adrenaline making him dizzy. yoochun pushes his knees to his chest and changmin dangles his feet over the edge. yoochun smokes a cigarette and they sit in silence for a while. changmin notices the glow of his cigarette is brighter than any of the city lights
"you want one?"
"no, it's okay."
yoochun fumbles for something on the inside of his suit jacket and pulls out a flask
"you want some?"
changmin shakes his head. yoochun shrugs unscrews the top takes a swig
"i was gonna spike the drinks and get one of these girls to put out. didn't really expect the punch bowl to be a geriatric watering hole."
"good thing my sisters decided to stay home then."
pity, if they're even half as cute as you, yoochun leers. changmin changes the subject
"what are you doing here?"
"younger brother graduated. well, mostly because my parents didn't want me home alone."
"what do you do? you have a job, right?"
"professional thrill seeker." yoochun takes another swallow
"professional burden on society, you mean."
"you're going to piss your pants if i tell you the truth."
"i won't."
"seriously though."
"okay i promise, i promise. tell me."
"i write...romance novels."
changmin immediately breaks his promise and snorts into his palm and laughs and laughs because it all makes so much sense now of course yoochun would drink himself into oblivion at a graduation party and act like every high-school cliché in existence because he writes romance novels for fuck's sake
"you're lucky i've desensitized myself to this exact reaction, otherwise you'd be splattered on the pavement." yoochun says
changmin is still laughing "wh-wha- how did you eve- that is the most-"
"i'll have you know my works have been very well received in the 18-30 female demographic."
changmin is close to crying so he grabs the flask from yoochun's hand takes a large mouthful and only when it burns down his throat does he catch his breath enough to say
"what are you working on now?" with as straight a face as he can
"a steamy bodice ripper set in the late goryeo dynasty."
"WHAT. y- you have to be lying." changmin downs the rest
"please do not insult my craft."
"nonono, i'm sure you're good at what you do."
"i probably have to give it up anyways."
"how do you mean?"
"parents gave me an ultimatum. get a real job that won't make your ancestors die again in shame before your brother graduates otherwise we're kicking you out."
"and?"
"well, as of," yoochun pulls changmin's left arm across his body and squints at the watch in the darkness "four hours ago, i've been in the market for a roof over my head."
yoochun's fingers stay loosely curled around his hand, thumb resting on the inside of his wrist against his pulse
changmin doesn't know what his intentions are when he blurts out "i'm starting an entry level thing at an architectural firm tomorrow and i just put down a lease on an apartment not too far from here."
"really?" changmin hears the unspoken question in his voice and
"come home with me,"
yoochun raises an eyebrow at him, his expression taking on something that makes changmin shiver and then he realizes he just accidentally propositioned him and maybe it wasn't a good idea to be so gung-ho about finishing the rest of that alcohol if stupid shit like that came out of his mouth before it even got close to his bloodstream
"no- wait, fuck. what i meant was that i have a couch for you to sleep on until you get your shit together. so you don't end up in a gutter somewhere." he clarifies
and any trace of that fleeting look that yoochun had given him seconds before disappears and is replaced by a shit-eating grin and changmin is enveloped in an enthusiastic, awkward side hug
"seriously? you're the best! none of my so-called fucking friends were picking up their phones and," yoochun hugs him tighter, "and i thought i would have to sleep on a bench! oh you've rescued me oh my prince in shining armor!"
"please keep your romance novel dialogue to yourself - ow fuck your chin is digging into my shoulder get off."
[four]
changmin wakes to a shift in the bed and the smell of sweat and skunked beer breath on the side of his face. his eyes slowly adjust to the darkness and he sees yoochun studying him fiercely, his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth in sloppy concentration. changmin's heart starts racing, ohshitohshitohshit i brought home a homicidal maniac he's going to cut me open pop my lungs and eat my heart
"think of this as a deposit." yoochun mutters against the shell of his ear, leans closer and puts his hand down changmin's boxers, his stroke whispering of warmth and experience
changmin narrowly avoids choking on a sudden influx of air
"i don't- i'm not- nrgh!" and rolls of the bed, stumbling onto his feet. he catches his breath and stares down at yoochun, still drunk and now shirtless, belt unbuckled looking up at him with wide, gosh i hope i didn't do anything wrong but i guess i did eyes. changmin doesn't know what to do, what to say, because oh god what is there to say. i'm still a virgin let's take it slow? oh so you like boys too? i've entertained the possibility of gay sex once or twice but sorry i really really like breasts?
he is somewhat relieved when yoochun speaks first, low and apologetic.
"i just thought. thought that, you know, you were- wanted to. i mean, you don't know even know me that well and you let me crash, so i was really happy and you were so nice and. i just wanted to, i dunno. thank you somehow."
yoochun trails off gloomily and changmin feels like he should be angrier, but his throat is dry and he really doesn't know how to continue whatever this is except with a completely inappropriate for the situation witty repartee
"a thank you card might have been a little more well-received than an unsolicited handjob."
he adds a little chuckle at the end for good measure but yoochun is still quiet and so changmin stands there waiting, feeling more helpless by the second.
after what seems like forever, yoochun gets up off the bed and picks up his white dress shirt from the floor shrugs it on and starts buttoning from the top down
suddenly, changmin's heart drops and he stammers
"wh- where are you going?"
yoochun looks at him like he is even stupider than he already feels
"you don't want me here."
"i never said that," yoochun continues adjusting his pants, so changmin insists
"i want you to stay. just. um. keep your hands to yourself please."
almost in slow motion
yoochun's lips twitch upwards and he starts laughing, this deep open-mouthed muscle straining laughter and he collapses back onto the bed, shaking uncontrollably. the awkwardness of the situation dissipates and changmin joins him until they're both nearly on top of one another. yoochun pushes the hair out of his eyes and wipes away tears of laughter from his face, gasps
"sorry for molesting you!"
"easily the worst graduation present ever!"
"it would've been the best if you didn't stop me!"
"EW GROSS."
changmin's face hurts by the time he regains some composure, and after a minute of sporadic giggling, he glances at the digital clock on his bedside table and turns back to yoochun
"hey look i start work tomorrow and it's really important that i get some sleep. i'll be gone by 7, so help yourself to the fridge. the faucet in the bathroom leaks so please turn it off tightly."
"anything else?" yoochun props his head up on his elbow and his eyes sparkle
"um."
"yeah?"
"i meant what i said about the hands to yourself thing."
yoochun laughs again and gives changmin a playful shove and a 'you don't know what you're missing out on' before he hoists himself up and heads to the couch.
[five]
the line between temporary house guest and roommate must have been blurrier than changmin thought because even while witnessing
how yoochun claimed the couch as his own (he even brought pillows and a blanket which were obviously a remnant of yoochun's infancy - a fact that changmin felt was entertaining enough to comment on - "IT IS NOT." yoochun denied a little too loudly)
the suitcases that appeared suddenly in the living room and disappeared just as quickly
the way he would slip on the water yoochun left on the bathroom floor after taking a shower
the old cheap coffeemaker that now made its home on his countertop ('got it for a measly 5 bucks at a garage sale, but it still makes the best coffee i've ever had,')
changmin still didn't quite realize what was going on until
"okay, so how much?"
"how much what?"
"rent. i'm paying half."
"no. not really."
"why not?"
"if i were to hypothetically go along with this, it would still be an illegal sublet."
"i won't tell if you don't."
"do you know how much i would be fined if someone reported us?"
"please." yoochun implores, and changmin looks at the couch, the threadbare blanket rumpled at one end
"if anyone asks, you're my out of town friend staying for a night or two. and make yourself scarce around the neighbors."
"oh baby i never kiss and tell."
"doubt it. it's 500, second friday of every month."
[six]
in the mornings, yoochun is always up before him, but never really quite as awake. they don't speak and it is a sort of content silence, the morning traffic punctuating changmin's early morning rituals. after brushing his teeth he always goes into the living room for yoochun's go ahead with his business casual get-up of the day. yoochun usually nods his approval, but sometimes he goes with changmin to his closet and hands him something else. changmin never wonders why he takes fashion advice from someone who will wear the same thing for a week straight until or unless he forcibly takes the clothing and hides them at the bottom of the laundry hamper. it's okay though, because the secretaries at work always compliment him on how nice he looks.
in his cubicle, changmin collates staples answers the phone and sets up meetings with contractors.
on his lunch break, he sits in the corner of the company cafeteria and sketches long hallways of gothic arcades, intricate cofferings made up of layered tetragons, rows and rows of penrose stairs, confusing and neverending
on wednesday, the cute secretary over from human resources sits down two tables away and it's not like he hasn't overheard how he's the boy all of them want to take home to mother. he focuses on the small silver cross settled in between her starched collar and watches how her throat moves when she swallows
she blushes when he looks up into her eyes and he realizes that it must seem like he's looking at her chest like some lecher but she doesn't mind that much though because one day he'll ask her out to coffee and she'll say yes and he'll stoop down to kiss her when he walks her back and she'll join him for lunch every day afterwards
he doesn't bring his sketchbook to work anymore leaves it underneath his bed because spending time with her listening to her talk holding her hand makes much more sense for a boy his age anyways.
he keeps refusing his parents' offer to buy him a car so changmin always walks home from the bus in the evenings, takes dark out of the way alleys and looks into the faces of strangers, some that look straight ahead, some that twitch their lips in a smile and he imagines having one night affairs with each and every one of them, wonders if yoochun would write him a story with stilletos and a coquette
he likes the small decrepit holes in the wall, the x's created by the boarding up of doors and the florid displays of mismatched graffiti most likely a product of rebellious boredom than any real intention to create art but changmin still thinks it's beautiful admires how the curves of aeresol paint dip into the recesses of crumbling brick, into the grain of decomposing wood
when he comes home, yoochun will be sitting at the small plastic kitchen table tapping away rythmically at the keys of his computer, feet up on the only other chair
they meet in the middle, right by the couch, and yoochun asks how his day went and changmin usually gives him three to four word answers, and some days when changmin's gives only one word answers
yoochun hugs him and rests his head in the crook of changmin's neck like he's missed him for months years even and whispers things like this new plot twist is gonna knock these publishers dead or i went to the library to do some research or i couldn't get shit written today, i'm never going to meet this deadline
changmin likes these greetings best especially when he learns to slowly lean into them
yoochun usually makes dinner but he is easily distracted when an idea comes to him and he runs to the computer to type it up, so changmin has to supervise, dividing his attention between the stove, the television, and way yoochun's fingers hover above the keyboard in anticipation
changmin sets the table by placing all his papers and both their computers on the floor because the table isn't big enough to hold both food and work. they grow accustomed to sharing a beer or two, stealing sips and tasting the greasiness of the food and each other on the edge of the metal can. yoochun never makes enough food, so changmin occasionally has to borrow some of yoochun's. yoochun smiles and pretends not to notice even though they both know he does
after dinner they sit together on the table with their respective work in front of them, yoochun turning on the stereo he also dragged over from his house. at first they used to argue about what kind of music they should play but now changmin remains quiet when yoochun plays slow ballads and taps his foot along to his thunkathunk dance numbers. the hours they spend here blend together like underneath the sea where time doesn't really matter so changmin is always surprised when he looks up at the clock
by midnight or half past at latest, changmin is organizing his papers into his portfolio, sending and saving e-mails. he brushes his teeth, takes a shower and changes into pajamas, goes back into the kitchen and tries to sneak a look over yoochun's shoulder. but all he ever gets are flashes of historical background, maybe some mention of court intrigue before yoochun slams the top shut and commands changmin to bed, please mind his own damn business, thanks and goodnight. changmin always tells yoochun to not stay up too late even though he knows that he will
changmin's parents call every sunday afternoon. they ask when they can visit and his mother says she wants to make him a real home-cooked meal. changmin answers that he's been really busy and will let them know later. you're not lonely, are you? his mother asks. he answers, no, i'm not.
[seven]
changmin comes home on a particularly dreary thursday, sets his bag on the floor and sees yoochun typing furiously next to a glass bowl
"what is this."
"you mean our new roommate?"
changmin sits down opposite yoochun and stares at the little beige and gold-finned fish through the glass. it stares back and gives changmin an enthusiastic 'o' with its lips before wiggling off to play with its reflection.
"you should've asked me."
yoochun looks up and pushes his laptop to the the side. he places his cheek on the table, looks at changmin sideways through the fishbowl
"oh come on, she's so low maintenance! gives me great feedback too!"
"so what does she think of your literary genius?" changmin asks yoochun through the water and a stray piece of aquatic foliage
"she told me not to quit my day job." yoochun replies miserably
"writing is your day job." changmin snickers
"yeah. i guess that's why she wasn't as excited as i thought she would be when i knighted her 'park yoochun's super awesome number one official muse'."
"how do you know it's a girl?"
"fins are smaller, colors are less bright than a male's. they're less popular though."
"what's her name?"
"our fish."
"i know that, but what-"
"no, her name is 'our fish'."
"wow you really don't have any creativity left." changmin groans
"i think it has a nice ring to it. 'hey changmin, it's time to feed our fish!', 'hey changmin, our fish needs a water change!', 'isn't our fish precious, changmin-ah?'or 'our fish says goodbye and be careful on the way to work and don't forget to pick up some orange juice, changmin!'"
changmin can't help his smile or the thought that yoochun's fish - no, 'our fish', changmin mentally corrects himself - is kind of cute.
he watches yoochun play a game of hide and seek with his finger delicate and playful on his side of the glass, enamored and gazing like a doting father at her little dances back and forth across the bowl. changmin catches himself staring at the slight part of his lips, so he stretches his legs underneath the dining table and arms above his head, announcing that he feels like fish for dinner.
yoochun gasps and covers the top of the fishbowl with his hands, jaw open and accusing
"HOW DARE YOU. WHAT IF SHE HEARD."
changmin looks back down at the fish bowl. she blows a bubble happily at him.
"nah."
[eight]
"how do you afford such mass quantities of alcohol?" changmin asks.
yoochun wiggles his eyebrows mysteriously at him. changmin sighs, returns to his cad drawings
"CHANGMIIIIIN. can i tell you secret?" yoochun slurs
"if it involves your nether regions, no."
"i don't even have a good reason for drinking this much! because i'm not depressed - fuck that one time in high school they didn't even prescribe me the good shit - nor am i really that fucked up and i don't have any weird repression issues...i think."
"maybe you just like how it makes you feel."
"maybe. and also 'cause food tastes like a billion times better when you're fucked up."
"uh-huh."
"and girls taste better. boys too. cigarettes. girls boys cigarettes everything."
[nine]
yoochun leaves him a note on the fridge, he's going out with some friends, don't miss him too much he'll be back soon. changmin looks around the small empty apartment, both their papers strewn across the table, a plastic bowl of half-eaten ramen next to a half-full glass of orange juice on the countertop. it takes two seconds to clean this up, changmin mutters to himself as he does it for him.
he looks around the apartment and it seems like he's missing something. it finally hits him that he has the apartment to himself. alone. no more bathroom quickies or sheepishly bringing in the computer to his bedroom for 15 minute intervals
he heads to his bedroom and leaves the door open, a kind of tribute to his temporary independence, bringing his computer with him. he opens clip after clip, high definition close-ups of silicone and wetness, third rate monosyllabic dialogue barely legal high-school sluts and he finds himself half hard, not quite getting there but not for lack of trying
something possesses him to abandon his computer and walk to the couch. he sits down, presses his nose against yoochun's blanket his smell strong in the cotton, soft against his face
then he lies face down thrusts himself hard against the couch gasping against the slow friction burn, his hand the only thing between him and the phantom of yoochun and when he comes harder than he has ever before, his tongue is dry from scraping against the polyester of the pillow
when he gets up, he sees their fish looking at him or maybe it's just his shame as he looks at the come on his hand and the small spot that managed to get on the couch
after minutes of furious scrubbing, changmin manages to reduce the stain to a small discoloration at the edge of the cushion. when he hears yoochun fumbling with his keys outside the door, he sits up a little straighter in his chair and focuses his eyes on the tv. yoochun catches his eye and smiles; changmin fills his mouth with food and gives him a hey what's up nod.
yoochun splays himself across the couch, and the food gets stuck in changmin's throat as he wills yoochun to please not notice the new addition to the upholstery because if you ask, i might blurt out something extremely inconvenient like oh yeah, totally slipped my mind, today i used the couch that you sleep on every day as a masturbatory aid because it smelled like you and not something reasonable like spilled some soda, sorry about that, i'll get it steam cleaned asap
fortunately, yoochun says nothing as he starts watching the evening news program changmin has turned to. "you can change the channel if you want." "no, it's okay, go 'head." "no, really. i'm not watching it." "ok, thanks."
yoochun flips and dismisses channels for a good thirty seconds before he settles on a well-lit bourgeois apartment, a doe-eyed pink-mouthed girl with tears running down her face contemplating herself in a large mirror. "oh my god, changmin you have to come watch this, i think she's going to tell her fiance that she cheated on him with her high-school sweetheart! i've been waiting for this forever!"
changmin hides a smile and instead plops himself on the other end of the couch, rolling his eyes, "i guess there's no accounting for taste."
yoochun distractedly swats at his arm, immersed.
changmin looks down and tries ignores the twist in his lower stomach when he sees yoochun's hand splayed near the stain, his ring and index fingers touching the edge.
"she's totally going to tell him!" yoochun declares after a cut to commercial, moving closer to changmin and wrapping his arm around his shoulders. he smiles a victorious grin in changmin's direction: "you know how i know?"
"well, the camera's been panning to the telephone every 5 seconds, so that may or may not be a clue." changmin replies, ignoring the fact that yoochun is sitting in the very same spot that he did, well- he did that in a couple hours ago
"no! she just put on the earrings her fiancé gave her for their 2 year anniversary so what that means is that she's going to call him and ask him to meet her somewhere - probably the park that they had their first kiss in or the cafe that they always go to? no, probably the park, better backdrop, more privacy - so, anyways, she's going to wear the earrings and say something like, i love you, and i'll always love you, but i can't marry you. and tell him about in-yeul, take the earrings off slowly, place it in his hand and say something along the lines of 'please give this to someone who deserves you' and then walk away."
yoochun is right, of course, down to the smallest detail. changmin is astonished and when the credits start rolling
"wait so you just watch the previews for next episode and just piece the rest together, right?"
"nope, i don't." yoochun starts flipping channels again
"then why do you watch these things if you know how exactly they're going to turn out?"
yoochun playfully tugs at changmin's earlobe as he gets up and tosses the remote into his lap, heading to the refrigerator. "because it's still more exciting than the evening news."
"it's called CULTURING oneself," changmin yells after him. "everything isn't about perfect first kisses and high-school sweethearts and falling in love. there's a real world out there with real problems." when it all comes out changmin realizes he hadn't meant to say that much so he looks back down at the couch and covers the stain with his palm and
"i know, and it totally sucks. i prefer escapism," yoochun flops back down with a tumbler filled with ice and cheap yellow wine. "especially the alcohol-induced kind."
later on when he can't sleep because of the flickering of the television and something else he tries to ignore, changmin trips over a discarded shoe, not his of course, to see if yoochun is asleep. he is, facedown on his stomach, hands cradling his head so changmin turns off the television and lulls himself to sleep to thoughts of a park in the early evening with purple hyacinths bending in the wind and yoochun's hands.
[ten]
a conversation only one of them remembers:
why haven't you tried anything on me again, changmin asks yoochun one weekend night prompted by six bottles and four shots of courage
because i really like you, yoochun replies while starting up a game of finger hockey with a bottle cap
what the hell, changmin says out loud wondering if he's entered another dimension where he can't get a goddamn straight answer
i've never tried anything with someone i really like, yoochun replies, scoring a goal with his left hand and not looking him in the eye
you are an idiot, changmin mumbles
so i've been told, yoochun sighs
[eleven]
"i'm moonlighting as a bartender!" yoochun declares, his hands full with bags of celebration takeout
"someone gave you a real job?" changmin jabs in mock incredulity
yoochun starts unpacking the cartons, handing changmin a pair of chopsticks, still just as excited, "yeah, and i start today. 10 to 4 shift. you should come down and provide me with moral support."
"trust me, you don't need any support. i seen the way you work those bottles. i have a project due tomorrow anyways." the last part is a lie.
yoochun gives him the address anyways.
changmin is restless by midnight, sleep not coming, work unfinished. he puts on a black shirt and jeans and walks to the bar
it's not classy by any means, the music stale and uninspired, the dance floor filled with cheap plastic hoop earrings
he sees yoochun and he slinks down, trying to make himself shorter
and quickly finds himself a corner away from the trajectory of the strobe lights.
he watches yoochun, the way he leans in to the customer just so. the half smile of charm and levity after enough drunken confessions, the brush of fingers always lingering half a second too long when he's tipped a little more than necessary. changmin thinks if he were the type to wax poetic, he'd describe yoochun as the kind of bartender perfect for falling madly in love with
until last call anyways.
changmin leaves around 2, hands jammed into his pockets, wonders if yoochun would write him a story with strong arms and a boy whose hair curls at the nape of his neck.
[twelve]
the way you're burning a hole through your screen right now it kinda looks like you're writing a dissertation on quantum mechanics instead of back of the bookstore erotica, observes changmin over instant noodles, looking up from his blueprints
i don't think you understand the subtleties of what i do, yoochun dismisses, sending him a withering look over the top of his computer.
well let's see. wanton tongues battling for dominance, caressing milky alabaster skin, heaving breasts, hardened buds of erect nipples, pulsating wetness, hot throbbing manhood, changmin moans as lasciviously as he can, then sits back in his chair, pleased.
any amateur can write the whole wham bam thank you m'aam, yoochun retorts but his annoyance is tempered by the beginnings of wicked smile.
oh really. then please do shower your gems of knowledge upon me, changmin leans forward and rests his head on his hands facetiously, likening himself to doe-eyed overly eager school child.
it's all about the build-up, yoochun replies as he closes the top of his computer, looking at changmin seriously. you can't construct a building without a solid foundation right? it's the same here. you want the reader to invest. flesh out the dynamic between the two characters. draw it out so that the sexual tension is palpable because the climax is nothing without the smoldering looks--
yoochun looks at changmin with the most exaggerated bedroom eyes he's ever seen and wets his lips slowly with his tongue and it would be hilarious, if wasn't fucking working
-the light, semi-accidental grazes of skin-
yoochun's knee brushes against changmin's underneath the table
-the small details indicating availability, want-
yoochun undoes another button down his shirt, places his hand delicately against his chest and flirtatiously cranes his neck sideways so changmin is immediately drawn down the curvature of his shoulder and the way his fingertips ghost across his skin underneath the fabric (shit, he is good at this, he thinks)
-and then the more...explicit overtures-
yoochun runs his foot along the inside of changmin's left leg, against the exposed skin of his calf then slowly past his knee, the inside of his thigh, mere inches away and changmin can do nothing but stare at yoochun and swallow the extra spit in his mouth and he moves slightly forward to get closer
but yoochun abruptly pulls away, pushes back his chair
-and then you sprinkle in some conflict, a little plot and there ya go-
changmin clears his throat, sobers up
-a heart pounding take away breath stomach flip romance.
[thirteen]
the next day, changmin has an after dinner coffee with the secretary, asked her impulsively, i know we didn't have any plans today but he knows yoochun isn't going to be home tonight. the place is nice and quaint, her fuzzy blue cardigan perfect against the pastel decor. after she finishes picking at her pastry, he asks her and tries to be confident
"will you come home with me tonight?"
she turns pink and nods yes, and changmin puts his hand on top of hers.
when they walk home together, they hold hands and he tries to make small talk with her. he sees that she is nervous and he tries to be as sympathetic as possible, even softening his voice a little so he can hide the fact that he is nervous too
he turns the key and the lock clicks open.
she walks in first and stops short, changmin walks in, confused. he follows her gaze
and he sees the dishes piled up, the scattering of books and papers all over the floor and couch, the water stains underneath the sink, the ashtray on the table and stale smell of cigarettes after changmin told yoochun to stop smoking on the stoop because people would see, the empty bottles shoved into a carboard box
he asks her if anything is wrong, knows the answer already
"i didn't know you smoked."
"i don't. my roommate does."
"you have a roommate? you never told me."
"he isn't around much."
changmin doesn't feel like talking about yoochun anymore, doesn't want to play him off as someone insignificant, because he was everywhere, in the cracks of the ceiling, the sheets stretched across his bed, the fingerprints on the tie he was wearing
changmin brings her into the bedroom, and they both sit down on the edge of the bed. he starts kissing her, insistent, running his hands across her cardigan, her chest
she pulls away, breathless
"i-- i can't."
changmin doesn't feel anything close to disappointment
"i just- i didn't expect you to live like this."
she looks down and changmin is sure she's never going to call him again and this little relationship they had would soon turn into awkwardly avoiding eachother, maybe a pleasantry or two. the rest of the girls at the office will know that he lives in squalor and makes up fake roommates to hide the fact that he's a filthy smoker and is nothing at all like the pristine clean-cut boy that he presents himself as.
she leaves and changmin surveys the apartment again and agrees that yes, it is a shithole
the bastard's brought me down to his level, he thinks
but i think i'm okay with that.
[fourteen]
i totally see through your snappy one-liners, you know. yoochun, reflective.
uh-huh. changmin, skeptical.
all a big front. you're transparent like glass
what? that behind the cynical facade i'm actually scared of falling in love because i might get hurt and i'll have to own up to my susceptivity in regards to matters of the heart?
well actually, i was going to say a desperate virgin who has enough porn in the folder named 'sketches to review' to satisfy a small standing army
what the fuck, you went through my stuff?
did no one ever teach you rule number one? never ever put the porn folder on the desktop. and aha! so you admit that you are in fact a card-carrying member of the virgin club
i happen to have a very attractive girl's number in my dresser drawer
why are you not on that yet
well you know, been busy
i call bullshi- ... what was that?
mouth to mouth rescucitation, what do you think it was
are you sure? i don't want to-
yes i'm sure
is this going to make things weird between us?
weirder than it already is?
i'm just worried that-
i know you get off on being a tragic hero or whatever but i'd like a resolution because i really like you too
oh.
yeah.
then can you wait until my mouth is closed the next time you try to kiss me
fuck you at least i had the balls to try
you have some nerve kissing me with that dirty mouth
yoochun
yeah
can you stop stalling, let's please just-
[fifteen]
they kiss three times a day. it's almost domesticated, like playing house in kindergarten and cooking with plastic blocks.
when changmin leaves in the morning, yoochun puts his arms around his waist and kisses him against the door, his eyes close as if trying to fall asleep and changmin always keeps his eyes open and watches the flutter of his eyelashes and presses his hands against the soft tangles of yoochun's hair. yoochun always pulls away first and wishes him a good day
when changmin comes home, yoochun pulls him into a hug like always, now moving his head from his shoulder, kisses him slow and studious, mumbling about how many pages he wrote today and sometimes changmin runs his hands underneath his shirt urgent for something more, but yoochun always pulls away first when changmin presses his hips against his, something sad and ferocious in his eyes
when changmin is about to go to sleep, he walks behind yoochun as he's typing and pulls his head towards him, hoping that yoochun will join him in his bed tonight, will get up out of his chair. yoochun only kisses him like it's goodbye, moans against him but keeps his hands to his side. when yoochun's tongue touches the roof of his mouth, he thinks that they both have a lot of growing up to do.
in bed, he thinks of telling yoochun
i want to kiss you all the time and i think about you on the way to work, at work, coming home from work, even when you are in front of me, are you just content with just this?
this is not what i want
i don't want straight edges right angles and gridlines (like me)
i want something wild chaotic and inconvenient (like you)
[sixteen]
changmin sees rolled up black sleeves behind the sink moving under running water, purposefully short messy peroxide blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and yoochun leaning against the counter speaking soft and easy to the faceless guest.
he closes the door as loudly as he can without slamming it and yoochun swerves his head, jogs over, greets him with a comfortable hug. changmin keeps his eyes to the back of the head and slim body in the kitchen, now turning off the faucets - changmin whispers to yoochun, who is that? - oh, that's jaejoong, he works with me at the bar, i hope you don't mind that i brought him here, i thought you were staying at your parents' tonight? - they're having guests over. wait. he? that's a - and then jaejoong turns from the sink and changmin thinks that he's never seen a man's mouth that shaped that way.
"finally, my two favorite people come face to face! changmin, jaejoong. jaejoong, changmin."
jaejoong smiles, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and when he walks towards him changmin feels reduced traction unexpected turbulence low visibility
he wants to shout what the hell are you doing here get out, but yoochun is smiling, hand on changmin's elbow ecstatic to catalyze the introductions
"hi. i've heard a lot about you."
he can't say likewise because yoochun's never mentioned him, not even in passing
"nice to meet you. oh. you didn't have to-" changmin gestures to the sink and now clean dishes "-do that. we usually just eat out of recyclable materials anyway."
jaejoong laughs and changmin half hates the sound, half wants to hear it again
yoochun looks at changmin approvingly and says
"i've wanted you guys to meet for a long time, but the timing was never right," but yoochun looks like he's apologizing for something other than scheduling conflicts "and jaejoong made us a home-cooked meal, changmin!"
changmin smiles as genuinely as he can, "you really shouldn't have."
jaejoong shakes his head, "no, no it's my pleasure, i guess it's my way of thanking you-" he places his arm on the small of yoochun's back, familiar and (possessive?), "-because i know how this one is a lazy slob, so thank you for taking care of him."
yoochun shoves him away playfully. so this is where the plot thickens, changmin thinks.
"nice fish you have here," jaejoong nods toward the fishbowl. changmin wonders if he's only imagining the hint of condescension in his voice, throws a sidelong glance at yoochun, and corrects
"it's our fish."
"oh?" jaejoong smiles at yoochun, his eyebrow delicately arched in question and yoochun nods.
after serving the food, jaejoong sits next to yoochun under the small dinner table and changmin faces them both, although he can barely see them through the copious amounts of alcohol on the table. changmin doesn't drink so as to avoid saying something extremely rude and uncalled for directed to jaejoong when he leans his head on yoochun's shoulder and puts his hand on his thigh.
jaejoong is a chameleon-like character as he becomes louder and quieter at the same time, more boisterous and shy as he drinks more, asking if changmin has a girlfriend - no? boyfriend then? - yoochun and changmin avoid each other's eyes on that question and jaejoong takes note, but says nothing.
yoochun becomes more affectionate with jaejoong as they gossip about the patrons that frequent the bar, and jaejoong eats it up. yoochun stops every now and then to look at changmin, unreadable. changmin doesn't know whether he wants him or wants to kill him.
changmin watches them and sees how two jagged edges fit together. amorphous ridges can fill apertures. he looks at his designs on the coffee table and thinks that straight lines of office buildings and the edges of a cliff can only have limited points of intersection.
when changmin has supposedly retired for the night, he cracks open his door and sees the wet thirsty kisses that he has wanted for so long, jaejoong in yoochun's lap on their couch, yoochun straining his neck like he wants to swallow him whole. jaejoong comes up for air and laughs,
"that changmin sure is territorial, isn't he?"
yoochun doesn't answer, pushes jaejoong back to his lips. clothes come off, and he can't help but to be awed at how they claw at each other, the very definition of blinding lust
the arch of jaejoong's back and the hot breathy exhale moans are almost pornographic and changmin keeps watching because this is making his blood boil his head spin, the sheer intimacy of the moment and the secret way they shuddered against each other.
[seventeen]
"am i just the wife you come home to?"
"what are you talking about?"
"i saw you and jaejoong."
"shit. fuck, i knew we shouldn't have- listen. me and jaejoong are just-"
"just fucking."
"yeah. we are just fucking. it's nothing. please believe me."
"i want you out of here in two weeks."
"are you serious?"
"yeah."
"i really like you."
"i don't really care."
changmin would've been angrier if the entire situation wasn't so fucking cheesy and straight out yoochun's bullshit shows.
[eighteen]
they avoid each other for the next week, yoochun conveniently out when changmin wakes up in the morning and comes back home. changmin orders take out every day and couple of supervisors even asked if everything was okay with him. yoochun's belongings slowly disappear one by one, his apartment cleaner and cleaner.
yoochun has 4 days left to move out when changmin comes home and sees him scrutinizing their fish, he looks up concerned when he registers changmin's presence
"look. i know you don't want to talk to me. but there's something wrong with her."
changmin walks over and feels a lump of guilt as he remembers forgetting about her for an entire week. he sees white blossoms opaque and blotchy on her skin, feels sick to his stomach when he sees a cloudiness in her eyes and the lopsided, distended belly.
they walk to the pet store together in silence, with yoochun holding the bowl. the attendant tells them it's probably something called dropsy and an advanced bacterial infection. so there's no medicine or anything, changmin asks. so she's just going to die, yoochun says angrily. the shopkeeper looks at them funny, because it's just a 3 dollar fish and they die all the time.
they leave and yoochun walks even more carefully back.
yoochun has 2 days left to move out when changmin find him on the couch, silent. he looks for the glass bowl and he finds it empty, sparkling from water and soap on the counter and his heart falters
he sits beside yoochun on the couch and
"you're crying?" he laughs, but it isn't particularly funny
"shut up okay. she was my muse."
"we can get another one."
"no. she was my favourite, i spent 20 minutes looking for one that was perfect. and there's no we, remember? i'm moving in with a friend tomorrow."
"jaejoong?"
"no, i quit the bartending thing. haven't talked to him." silence. changmin feels like his draft is finished, the story is almost over
"do you really like me?" changmin asks
"i really really like you. maybe a little in love with you." yoochun answers
[nineteen]
when he pushes into yoochun, changmin whispers into the pillow are you okay am i doing this right is this way okay i can stop if you want. (fuck, how are you letting me do this?) yoochun doesn't answer but pulls him in by the nape of his neck, closer, eyes squeezed shut, until their chests are pressed together.
[twenty]
if you built me a house, what would it look like?
just like ours
if you wrote me a love story, how would it go?
just like this