gridlock, baby (1.5)
My heart's stuck in gridlock... baby, will you be my key?
/insert something clever.
A Yoosu romcom (help_japan) fic for oldwillow_brook :D♥
In which Junsu is a riddle in a mystery wrapped inside an enigma and Yoochun still has no idea what what what he is doing- but his sad fate will most likely be avoided because he has a sassy gay friend.
Coffee dates! Confusion! More pop-culture references! Part Duex got a little too long so instead I present Part Un-and-a-half. We'll call it Junsu 101 :D/ It picks up right where the last left off, so for a refresher, click here~!
Yoochun does pretty well doing the not-thinking for most of the week. Or so he assumes.
Thursday night he learns his assumption is utterly false, because Jaejoong shouts, “Okay. Enough!” and it’s the only warning he gets before he body-checks Yoochun into the wall.
“Oof,” he says- and when he gets air back in his lungs, “Motherfu-”
“Language,” Jaejoong says primly.
“My kidney,” Yoochun growls back. Jaejoong has got him pinned against the wall and one of the antique white-porcelain door knobs that Jaejoong insisted they simply must have is gouging a rosette-shaped crater into his lower back.
Jaejoong isn’t the slightest apologetic, but he does ease up, a hand on Yoochun’s shoulder to yank him away from the wall and down onto the couch. When Jaejoong perches on the coffee-table Yoochun’s tempted to make a remark about ass-prints on the glass, and it must show on his face, because Jaejoong wastes no time in digging his thumb into the hollow of his collarbone, and Yoochun’s forced to abort the snark in lieu of balking like a ninny.
“Ow-owow-owo-okaaaaay” he cries. “Goddamnit, Jae, ow, let go!”
“You will tell me what is going on with you.” His eyes are fierce, delving deep into Yoochun in a way that he can just feel Jaejoong looking at his soul and judging him, and Yoochun squirms because soul-searching is mildly excruciating at best and ow. There’s just no arguing with that tone, that stare. When Jaejoong pulls the soul-glare out, which is rare enough, Yoochun crumbles like a cookie with absolutely no fortune inside.
He spills the story, in all its unsightly, shameful glory. From start to finish; unexpected first sight to cringe-worthy encounter to possibly the best thing ever meeting-to-be.
“So,” he ends, and waits for Jaejoong’s reaction. The other man was still through the whole thing, almost thoughtfully silent, and the longer the silence continues the more afraid Yoochun gets.
*
10:56 on Saturday morning and Yoochun is at the Starbean Peet’s Best on Development Avenue, staring determinedly into the frothy top of his latte macchiato and ignoring everything around him. He’s ignoring Jaejoong, who’s sitting off in a corner and trying to pretend like he’s not watching Yoochun on the sly.
There is nothing sly about Jaejoong. He’s even worse than Yoochun at this whole secret-watching thing- even behind dark-tinted Ray-Ban’s his stare is obvious like burning. The magazine he’s holding hasn’t had a single turn of the page since they got to the café nearly :20 ago.
But nothing Yoochun could have done could have dissuaded Jaejoong from coming, from meeting Yoochun’s secret boy-toy (which Junsu is not; Jaejoong has just taken to calling him that and god help him but Yoochun’s brain won’t let it go now-) and so now Yoochun’s stuck with him here, and can only pray that Jaejoong stays in his corner and doesn’t do anything to make this the worst casual business meeting (coffee date!) ever.
Junsu is supposed to meet him here at 11:00. Yoochun knows how prompt the kid is, and doesn’t doubt that he’ll be here exactly on time, not a moment sooner. It doesn’t stop him from anxiously counting down the minutes, the seconds, the heel of his right foot bouncing like it’s possessed. Like he can burn up all his nervous energy out of him in three- no, two minutes left, now.
“You should try and breathe,” Jaejoong shouts across the shop, and Yoochun takes a desperate sip of his drink, head thrown back all the way. And of course it goes down the wrong pipe, foam stuck and tickling light but maddening at the back of his throat. He hacks and sputters and flails and he can hear Jaejoong cackling in the corner, the asshole.
And of course that’s also the moment the bell chimes and the door swings in. All the air in the room shifts with the sudden breeze, the change in pressure, and Yoochun can feel it in his lungs, a spasm just a little below that pesky heart in his throat.
Plaid board shorts, he notes, trying to catch his breath. Of course. Pink hair clips. Low-strung tank-top, and wow collarbones- not helping. Not helping at all.
“Um… Mr. Park?” Junsu says, having spotted him, smiling hesitantly down at him.
He thinks he hears Jaejoong snort, in his not-far-enough-away corner. He twitches but soldiers on. “Junsu,” he smiles, standing, reaching out a hand. “Good of you to make it on time,” he says, kicking himself a moment later for the business in his tone.
Junsu colors prettily. “Uh, yeah,” he says, even as he shakes hands. He seems awkward. It’s cute, Yoochun decides. Usually he dislikes awkward people -they’re indecisive, inept. Yoochun is nothing if not efficient.
Then again, Yoochun is nothing like himself, these days.
“How’ve you been?” he asks, trying for casual, familiar. His hand fiddles restlessly with the handle of his coffee mug.
“Good,” Junsu answer slowly, as if he’s afraid it’s a trick question. “Not much different from, uh, usual.”
Yoochun nods thoughtfully, thinking. “Good,” he echoes. “Good. Did you want anything to drink?”
He jerks his head towards the counter and Junsu perks up. “Oh, yeah. I don’t really drink coffee but I like some of the drinks here. There are so many things you can add! I have to get decaf or else I get really shaky but there are all these flavors, I always add at least four pumps of something-”
The kid stops abruptly yet again, wide-eyed and artless, and there’s a pause, and then Yoochun smiles, something fond growing in him. “Alright,” he says gently. “Order whatever you want- it’s on me.”
He hears a cough that sounds suspiciously like Jaejoong, but he ignores it much more easily this time. Junsu looks shy, again, and asks “Wow, really? Thanks,” in such a genuine tone that it makes Yoochun want to buy him the world.
“Sure,” he answers instead, shrugging loosely. “I asked you to meet me, didn’t I? Least I can do.”
He waves a hand and it’s not like the baristas to come out from behind the counter, but Yoochun is V-I-P, and the snub-nosed kid who works this shift doesn’t waste time coming over.
“Hi hyung!” he says, batting his eyelashes.
“Hey Kibum- Key,” he amends, remembering the kid’s nickname-of-the-month. “Can I get another? And, Junsu, what do you…?”
Junsu rattles off something that sounds more like a chemical equation than a coffee drink, and Yoochun wanted to be smooth and repeat the order to Key, but instead he just kind of leans back in his seat and says, “Yes. He’ll have that.”
Junsu gives him a happy look, though, and it’s worth it.
Key doesn’t look so pleased. He gives Yoochun a sideways glance that’s not returned and then stares flatly at Junsu. “…do you want whipcream on that.”
“Uh, sure!”
“Whatever.” He stomps off and Junsu blinks in the aftermath, but Yoochun tells him not to worry.
“He’s like that to most people.”
The kid chews on his lip. “He was nice to you.”
“I have money,” Yoochun says blandly, and Junsu tilts his head curiously. He’s got a bird-like air about him, Yoochun thinks, like he’s really interested and yet somehow careless; impulsive, ready to flit off at any moment. He’s natural, uncomplicated -like the implications and artifice of money don’t quite register.
“I give big tips,” he clarifies, and Junsu’s mouth drops open even as he nods in understanding.
“Oh. I guess that’s why people aren’t nice to me,” he says. “I don’t have any cents.”
And Yoochun frowns sharply, all ready to defend Junsu from himself- but a second later Junsu shrugs and his lips quirk and oh, it’s a joke. A really, really bad joke. He snorts and Junsu’s mouth twists up just that much higher. It’s a victory, of sorts.
When Key comes down and drops their drinks down onto the table, the smack of ceramic on fake wood is like the shot of a gun.
Yoochun coughs and reaches his wallet, handing over a few bills as he says in a gruff, no I did not jump like a little girl tone, “Thanks Key.” Junsu echoes him, a hesitant “Thanks,” murmured into the rim of his sprinkled-covered cup. Key opens his mouth only to shut it again fast and flounce off, but the whole time Yoochun only has eyes for the young man in front of him.
Junsu comes away from his cup with whip cream at the corner of his smile. He smacks his lips together and makes a soft, happy noise of satisfaction.
Yoochun leans forward, elbows on the table and chin in his hands. He sighs, because this is a different sort of satisfaction all on its own.
Junsu takes a few more sips before wiping his lips, the whip cream smearing onto the side of his fist. “So, uh, Mr. Park-”
“Yoochun,” Yoochun says.
“Yoochun,” Junsu copies easily. “You wanted to talk about, um. Music? Or something,” he pauses, and fidgets nervously. “I wasn’t really- I mean, I was, I was totally- but it was really unexpected and so it’s all crazy-rushed in my memory, and I know you said you’re in music and that’s really cool, and then all of a sudden I was singing and then you said we should meet and talk and, um.”
Yoochun has to take a second to sort that all out in his head. “You’re right,” he ends up saying. “I did want to meet and talk. Do you know why?”
Junsu shrugs sheepishly and Yoochun has to shake his head, lean back and straighten into something more assured. “You’re an interesting person, Junsu. Not many people would just agree to a meeting without knowing why.”
Junsu’s sheepish look stays and his shoulders hitch up slightly. Yoochun has a moment, a sinking feeling that he’s a horrible, horrible person for making the kid look like that, but then Junsu says- “You’re business card was too nice to be fake. And…uh, you seemed nice, too.”
-and Yoochun rises right back up, head into the clouds. Junsu’s grin is shy and Yoochun feels light-headed- like he’s on one of those rollercoaster rides that shoots you straight up into the air and if you stare up all you see is sky, and it’s like you’re rocketing off into space and you’ll keep going and going- but then you slow and stop and in that moment, right before the fall, you feel like you’re flying.
Yeah, Yoochun thinks he kinda feels like that.
*
So they talk music. They start somewhere around Junsu’s headphones and his scratched-up brick of a 3rd gen iPod-
“This is a classic! Seriously, I know some tech guys who’d like to put this in a museum,” Yoochun crows, touching the novelty of the buttons under the screen.
“My brother got it for me for our twelfth birthday,” Junsu says. “It meant a lot, back then… I just, um, haven’t been able to give it since.”
Yoochun notes the ‘our’ in that birthday (because holy crap, twins?) and also the birthday itself (because holy fuck, twelve??)
“So that’d make you… 20?” he asks, hoping without much hope.
“19,” Junsu shrugs, oblivious, and runs his thumb over the wheel-scroll.
“COUGHMYGODCOUGH,” coughs Jaejoong, in the background.
Yoochun changes the subject quickly.
Junsu’s favorite style of music is pop, the sort of teeny-bop that makes Yoochun cringe, but then the kid follows it up with a list of almost-favorites that send him reeling- jazz and R&B and electro hop and a capella and indie folk and popera, and Yoochun finally has to cut him off.
“That’s a lot of styles.”
Junsu’s eyes are wide and heartfelt. “There’s a lot of music!”
Yoochun smiles and confesses he likes pop, too, but he works with mostly pop artists and it gets old, after a while. Junsu nods, and it’s the sort that says he understands but doesn’t really get it. So Yoochun moves on, says he likes jazz and anything that can produce a pure, acoustic sound.
They get into a momentary debate about the merits and persistence of autotune, but it’s an argument as old as autotune itself (which, Yoochun thinks, might actually be older than Junsu), so he lets it go without much fuss.
He tells Junsu he plays the piano, instead, and guitar, though he’s better at the former. He went to university for music-
“Wow, like, you got a degree in music and uh, everything?”
“Music theory and a minor in performance,” Yoochun answers. It’s the first time he’s said that in a long time and felt close to proud about it; the first time he hasn’t had to admit that no, my degree wasn’t business. Or econ. Or marketing. Or- and that he doesn’t get a look that says, oh, you’re one of those types.
“Awesome,” Junsu says, and he’s got a chocolate sprinkle on his cheek.
“It was,” Yoochun says.
-and, though he doesn’t get a chance to play much anymore, he tries to keep his skills fresh, when he has the time. He taught his best friend to play, a few years back. He’s never been a strong signer, or songwriter, but if he had time he’d definitely do more of both. Junsu’s lucky he has a voice like he does, even untrained as it is.
“Thanks,” Junsu says, but doesn’t say much more until Yoochun prompts him.
No, Junsu can’t play any instruments. No, he can’t write music. No, he’s never even tried. He’s never had any formal lessons, and he’s not planning on going to school for it, either. He’s not going to school at all.
Yoochun’s eyebrows hitch up. “Why not?”
Junsu shrugs. “Don’t wanna.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Huh?”
“What do you do then? Are you working -where you go every morning?”
Raising a hand, Junsu kneads the back of his neck anxiously. The whole time they’ve been talking he’s seemed unable to keep still, which Yoochun finds wholly unsurprising. “I work… yeah. I’m, uh, a delivery guy. For an office supply company. I pick up order forms from places around, and deliver them each morning to the main building. It’s not-”
He shrugs again.
“Sounds like it’s something you’re passionate about,” Yoochun says dryly.
Junsu chews on his lip, but doesn’t answer.
Yoochun shakes his head. “I’ll be level with you, Junsu. I didn’t ask you here just to talk about music. You’ve got charisma and the sort of raw talent a lot of people I know would kill for -and, honestly, I think if you wanted to do something with it, you could go far. As a musician and a businessman… with a voice like yours?” he pauses, full of gravitas, and finishes with a weighty “You could be a star.”
The silence afterwards is equally dramatic, and he’s content to let the words sink in.
And yet, somehow, the kid doesn’t seem absolutely thrilled. No happy surprise- no flattered blush. He actually frowns when he looks up at Yoochun. “You really think so?”
What the hell? he thinks, but tries to keep his head straight. He’s used to sales, not talent scouting; this isn’t exactly going how he expected. He tries for the honesty route, and digs deep into that part that’s truly curious about the true extent of this kid’s potential.
Clearing his throat- “And, Junsu, you seem like a really nice person, too. That’s why I’m offering to help you personally, and not directing you to someone else, throwing you to company wolves, as it were-” well, it’s at least one reason why- “and you said it yourself, you love music.”
“I do,” Junsu confirms, and somehow manages to sound both enthusiastic and unenthusiastic at the same.
“I’m not asking you to commit to anything. No contracts, nothing. But if you’re interested in moving forward in this direction, if you’re really passionate about it, I can provide… something. Coaching, of sorts. Help you get a foot in the door. It’s all about who know,” he adds, grinning his best charming grin.
Junsu smiles back like he can’t help it, but then hides it by another deep drink from his coffee. When he sets the cup back down it’s a dull thud- hollow, empty, finished.
“Um. Thank you so much for the coffee, Mr. P- Yoochun,” he says, tugging the strap of his satchel.
Warning bells start ringing in Yoochun’s head, an alarm that buzzes something terrible. He doesn’t know when the situation came to this, but he feels it quickly slipping out of his control. His casual coffee date disappeared somewhere along the line, right around the time he realized he actually meant the proposition he was making, and he can see it all dwindling, slipping finely out of his grasp, all too fast.
Junsu shifts like he’s ready to stand and Yoochun shoots a quick, desperate glance at Jaejoong- who he’d almost forgotten, whose Ray Ban’s again do nothing to hide the unexpected, concentrated expression of concern on his face.
The motion of Junsu standing jars Yoochun back to the situation at hand. “Wait-”
“Really, thanks,” Junsu interrupts, bouncing on the balls his feet. “It was really nice talking to you and, uh, I appreciate the offer and everything. But, um. No thanks?”
Yoochun’s mouth drops, whether in dismay or shock he doesn’t really know. Junsu gives him one last sheepish, apologetic shrug, and then he walks out of the café.
*
Yoochun’s stomach churns painfully; too much caffeine, he tells himself. It’s such a bad lie it makes him even more nauseous, and he fear if he opens his mouth something’s going to come out -real vomit or word vomit, he doesn’t know what’ll be more damaging to his pride. He’s struck silent, staring at the whorls on the fake wood table.
He sits that way for approximately 2 minutes before the June issue of Cosmo flies through the air, cleaving 50 papercuts into his skull.
“What the f-ow.”
“You’re an idiot,” Jaejoong says, following the same trajectory as the magazine. People are staring again and Jaejoong swoops down and picks his Cosmo off the café floor, rolling it up so he can smack Yoochun again. “Idiot.”
Yoochun holds his head in his hands but turns enough to glare up Jaejoong- but Jaejoong glares right back. “Go after him!” he cries, smacking again for good measure. “Go!”
Yoochun doesn’t need to be told twice.
*
-And welcome back, listeners! This is K-CASS 102.5, and I’m your host Yunho, U-Know! It’s a sunny, beautiful, sunny sunny day in Thebigcity and we’ve got some sunny, beautiful music for all you morning commuters! But right now I’d like to give a big welcome to MISS SUNNY for coming in today to talk with us-!
Oh, haha, thank you-
-Thank you, Miss Sunny, and I know none of our listeners can see you right now, but it’s their loss, because wow, you are looking as beautiful as sunshine today!
Ahh, Yunho-sshi, you’re too nice! I’m blushing, haha.
I’m only saying the truth! We tell no lies here at K-CASS-
Jaejoong flicks off the radio with a disgusted sigh. “Wow, gross.”
Yoochun glances over only briefly. “Hm?”
“Honestly, like anyone is going to buy that flirting. That guy is so far from straight he’s practically a right angle. No one’s that happy and not gayer than a handbag full of rainbows.”
Yoochun snorts. “I thought he was just a morning person.”
“That too,” Jaejoong mutters darkly. “I don’t know which is worse.”
“If you like him that much, I could always introduce you.”
Jaejoong shoots him a look half-way between offended and panicked. “You know U-Know?”
He chuckles. “I know someone who knows someone who knows him, I’m sure. He broadcasts in the same building as us, a couple floors down.”
Jaejoong stares at him and Yoochun can’t fathom what’s going on in that unfathomable brain of his, but after a second he huffs and jerks back into his seat in the car and mumbles something to the effect of, “No, of course not. Pssh.”
“Whatever you say,” he sighs, and eases his foot off the gas break so he can inch forward another half foot or so. Morning traffic, again, and he sighs, again. “Remind me why you’re here, Jaejoong?”
“Because it’s been a week and you haven’t talked to Junsu again,” Jaejoong says plainly. Obviously you’re doing it wrong.”
“Obviously,” Yoochun grunts.
But Jaejoong’s right -he’d lost Junsu in the crowd two blocks away from Starbean’s (and learned that holy crap he needed to start going to the gym again). Since then, he’s tried to catch Junsu again, to sneak up and coerce him into another meeting or two or forever.
And maybe Yoochun is doing it wrong, because this is what he’s got so far, and it’s not pretty:
Monday: He saw Junsu, he waved. Junsu even waved back, smiled, and then kept dancing as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
Tuesday: He followed Junsu to the side-street but when he got close the kid bent down to the window and said, “Hi Yoochun! Nice weather, yah? Sorry I can’t talk I’m kinda on schedule, but maybe sometime-!” and then quick-stepped it into the building. He didn’t come out and within :10, Yoochun was forced to cut his losses.
Wednesday: He tried catching him on Themain Street instead, pulling up close to the curb and sticking his head out the window and everything- but Junsu was walking with his eyes closed and couldn’t even hear him. Yoochun drove into a parked car.
Thursday: He missed Junsu completely (-and yet, somehow, was even more late to work than usual. He got the stink eye from his boss, had to sit through a meeting listening to Hyukjae’s crazy idea about reorganizing contracts into a percent-yield color-coded filing system, and had to grit his teeth and say nothing when Changmin threw infuriating little notes at his head that said things like Have u looked @ the expense reports yet? and When are u going to sign off on the WENUS?? and I like u. Do u like me? Check yes or no.
He wrote fuck in front of the no and dropped it into Changmin’s cup of coffee, and the bitch-face Changmin made after that kind of made his day.)
But today is Friday, and Jaejoong, ever-impatient Jaejoong, is unimpressed with this track record. He thinks Yoochun should be more proactive.
“Why aren’t you more proactive?” he’d said. “You’re a marketing exec!”
“Exactly,” he’d replied. “I’m a businessman, Jaejoong, not a pimple cream.”
This simple logic did nothing to sway Jaejoong, to Yoochun’s absolute unsurprise -and now all he can do is raise his eyes to the pleather ceiling of his shitty loaner car and pray to whoever is listening. “Alright, what’s the plan?” he sighs.
“No idea!” Jaejoong says cheerfully. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
“Jaejoong,” he chastises, glancing at the clock. It’s 6:47 and they’re less than a block away- “We are there! The bridge is crossed. I let you come with me and- hey wait what are you doing?!”
He cries out even as he slams on the brake and just in time, because Jaejoong’s already got the door open, ready to step out into the street. He yells, “Ohmygod, Jae, close the door!” because they’re in the middle lane and even if they’re going less than ten miles an hour, you don’t step out into the middle of the street and expect everything to just turn out fine and dandy!
But Jaejoong just turns to and says, “Hey, stop here for a second!” as if Yoochun hasn’t already had a heart attack and Jaejoong hasn’t already gotten out of the car.
“Jaejoong-” he hisses, “Jaejoong! Get back here!” But the older man is already shutting the door and jogging over to the sidewalk.
The light’s changed so the other cars have all stopped, thank god, and Yoochun doesn’t have a chance to stop freaking out because as soon as Jaejoong hops over the curb he spots Junsu (lavender suit jacket, bow-tie, camo-green cargo pants, and wow, that might be a new record of awful) moon-walks into view.
Yoochun ducks his head even as Jaejoong sneak up around an oblivious Junsu. When red becomes green and green becomes go now or get rear-ended, Yoochun pulls into the slow-lane and coasts with his emergency lights flashing. He gets honked at but at least he knows Junsu won’t hear, those Grado’s keeping him wrapped up in a much more salient sound. He turns the first corner he crosses but stays parked on the curve- unable to do anything except sit and watch the train-wreck that is Jaejoong crossing that bridge.
He’s too far away to hear anything, of course, but he sees Jaejoong skip-step up to Junsu and tap him on the shoulder. He sees Junsu whirl around and slip off his head phones with confusion tilted onto his face. He sees Jaejoong put on his best wide-eyed earnest expression and talk with his hands just as much as voice. He sees Junsu’s uncertainty dissolve into amazement, pleasure, something that might be thoughtful… or maybe just a different sort of surprise?
Yoochun thinks he looks thoughtful, though.
But what does that even mean?
Jaejoong says something else and then grins and turns, walking down the street without looking back -but Yoochun sees Junsu watch him with that same wondering look. A second later he too turns, and disappears from sight.
Yoochun rubs his hands together anxiously and waits for Jaejoong to slip into the passenger seat -which he does with an insufferably smug look.
“Well?” Yoochun demands.
Jaejoong clucks his tongue, reaching down to flick the radio fob. “So demanding,” he huffs.
“Jaejoong,” he wails. “What did you talk to him about? What did you say? What did he say?!”
Jaejoong gives him a thin smile that da Vinci would approve of. “You’ll see.”
Yoochun boogles. “You can’t seriously-”
“You’ll see,” Jaejoong repeats himself. And no matter what Yoochun does, no matter how loud he shrieks, Jaejoong won’t say another word.
*
Yoochun has half a mind on work, half a mind on the corner where Jaejoong and Chagnmin stand, heads bent together as they whisper and giggle and look at him. It’s terrifying, really.
Changmin leans over Jaejoong and gives him a sleazy grin, one that makes Yoochun want a bath just having witnessed it; but Jaejoong soaks it up, like it’s rose-scented water instead of a tub of grease.
He really, really hopes nothing happens between them.
Then Jaejoong ducks his head, digging through his giant man-purse, and Changmin takes the moment to look up at Yoochun and throw him a ridiculously happy like a wonky-eyed kid in a candy-themed porn shop thumbs up.
Well, Yoochun amends, maybe something can happen. If it makes them happy, and doesn’t make his life hell -which it probably will anyway, damnit.
He sighs and is about to put his signature on the umpteenth report of the day when his pager (yes, he still has a pager, shutup) buzzes in the Gucci leather holster he keeps on his belt. The number isn’t one he recognizes, but he taps it into his Bluetooth anyway, answering “Park Yoochun, division manager.”
“Oh wow that was fast. Um. Yoo- Mr. Par- Yoochun? It’s Junsu. Kim Junsu? We met-”
“Junsu!” he cries, throwing himself back into his seat in shock. He coughs then, to bring his voice back down to normal level. “Junsu, yes, of course I remember. What’s-” another cough- “up?”
A quick glance to the side reveals Changmin looking at him curiously, and Jaejoong all but glowing with self-satisfaction. “It’s him, yah?” he mouths.
“Yah,” he mimes back, even as Junsu is saying. “Well, um… I was wondering if you’d be willing to talk, again. About, um, y’know-”
“I know,” Yoochun says. (Jaejoong mouths “I told you so.” Yoochun gives him the finger). “And of course I would. I’d be willing to talk about anything-”
Junsu sounds pleased. “Really?”
“Sure,” Yoochun says, trying to infuse a winsome amount of warmth into his voice. “When would be a good time?”
The sound of Junsu thinking is audible, a lot of ums and uhs and in the meantime Yoochun slaps at Changmin, who’s snuck closer to try and peak a look at the mystery caller, because he’s a nosy little shit like that.
Changmin says, “Who is it? Hyung-”
And Yoochun whispers, “Shut up-”
-just as Junsu says, “Would Saturday work again? It’s short notice but-”
“Hyung!”
“God, stop- go away.”
“E-excuse me?”
Shit, Yoochun thinks. “Oh, not you, Junsu. Sorry. I’m at work and the building, I swear, it’s infested with pests.” He glares at Changmin.
“Oh,” Junsu says.
“I know,” he says, glaring harder when Changmin rolls his eyes. “They really should do something about it.”
His co-worker sticks out his tongue, but then Jaejoong puts his hand on his arm and it’s like a switch has been flipped, because Changmin goes all pliant and stars fill his eyes and Jaejoong steers him away without another word of protest.
“Let’s go get some food,” he says.
“I love your brain,” Changmin says back.
That’s a first, Yoochun snorts, and Jaejoong throws a sharp look over his shoulder that says both You wish you had brains like this and You owe me SO HARD. Then he smiles sweetly up at Changmin, and Changmin smiles back, and they waltz off to the who-knows-where.
Yoochun thinks they might have orchestrated that, and that he’s probably fucked -but he can’t care about that now, because he’s got Junsu on the line.
“Saturday actually sounds great,” he tells Junsu. “What made you change your mind?”
“Uh, well, it’s kinda funny, but I met this- it was really random, but he said some things. And I never really thought about it, so I thought it wasn’t for me, but… I’ve been thinking about it. Since then.”
“Thinking is good,” Yoochun says, and immediately wants to smack himself.
But Junsu laughs quietly. “Yeah.”
“Alright,” Yoochun breaths, and even though they’re talking quietly his mind is screaming it’s thoughts, utter cacophony. “Alright. Saturday it is, then. We can either meet at the café again, or if you wanted, maybe, you could… You could come to my place, I have some equipment-”
“Yoochun,” Junsu says suddenly, softly, but Yoochun stops, 60mph to 0 in a half-second flat.
“Yoochun… I want to meet again. But, I’m not- I can’t make any promises. I’m probably not-”
He can hear a thousand things at the end of that and sighs, but inwardly steals himself. No giving up. “Junsu, I said I’d helped you- and I won’t take that back. I won’t let your talent go to waste, if you let me.”
Yoochun has never meant anything more in his entire life …but the silence drags on for a really long time, and Yoochun hold his breath. When Junsu finally says “Ok,” Yoochun feels something he hasn’t in a long time -anticipation, hope, inspiration. It’s a heady feeling.
Then Junsu adds- “Your place would be great. I’ll be there at noon?” -and Yoochun agrees and gives him the address and they hang up.
And then Yoochun dives for his lunch, dumps the contents all over his desk, and spends the next five minutes with his head between his knees, breathing into the emptied brown paper-bag.
This is how Changmin and Jaejoong find him.
“I think he’s broken,” Changmin comments.
“I’m still your boss,” Yoochun groans.
“You’re a sad sack of sadness.” Changmin says.
He glances up at Jaejoong, but his best friend only shrugs. Traitor.
[NEXT]
started writing: 3/17/11
finished writing: 7/7/11
master list
Guyz, seriously, I could make a whole soap opera out of this thing. The magical Yoosu rollercoaster is just getting started but Part 2 /will/ be the end... of this particular story :D/ Spin-offs will never be ruled out, and Jaejoong can be such a demanding muse :'D
Also to note, for those who're keeping an eye out, I'll be traveling for the next couple of months so as much as I was hoping to finish this before I left, no such luck. Part Deux might be a liiiiiittle bit slower in coming, but it'll be great. Really ;A;
/insert something clever.
A Yoosu romcom (help_japan) fic for oldwillow_brook :D♥
In which Junsu is a riddle in a mystery wrapped inside an enigma and Yoochun still has no idea what what what he is doing- but his sad fate will most likely be avoided because he has a sassy gay friend.
Coffee dates! Confusion! More pop-culture references! Part Duex got a little too long so instead I present Part Un-and-a-half. We'll call it Junsu 101 :D/ It picks up right where the last left off, so for a refresher, click here~!
Yoochun does pretty well doing the not-thinking for most of the week. Or so he assumes.
Thursday night he learns his assumption is utterly false, because Jaejoong shouts, “Okay. Enough!” and it’s the only warning he gets before he body-checks Yoochun into the wall.
“Oof,” he says- and when he gets air back in his lungs, “Motherfu-”
“Language,” Jaejoong says primly.
“My kidney,” Yoochun growls back. Jaejoong has got him pinned against the wall and one of the antique white-porcelain door knobs that Jaejoong insisted they simply must have is gouging a rosette-shaped crater into his lower back.
Jaejoong isn’t the slightest apologetic, but he does ease up, a hand on Yoochun’s shoulder to yank him away from the wall and down onto the couch. When Jaejoong perches on the coffee-table Yoochun’s tempted to make a remark about ass-prints on the glass, and it must show on his face, because Jaejoong wastes no time in digging his thumb into the hollow of his collarbone, and Yoochun’s forced to abort the snark in lieu of balking like a ninny.
“Ow-owow-owo-okaaaaay” he cries. “Goddamnit, Jae, ow, let go!”
“You will tell me what is going on with you.” His eyes are fierce, delving deep into Yoochun in a way that he can just feel Jaejoong looking at his soul and judging him, and Yoochun squirms because soul-searching is mildly excruciating at best and ow. There’s just no arguing with that tone, that stare. When Jaejoong pulls the soul-glare out, which is rare enough, Yoochun crumbles like a cookie with absolutely no fortune inside.
He spills the story, in all its unsightly, shameful glory. From start to finish; unexpected first sight to cringe-worthy encounter to possibly the best thing ever meeting-to-be.
“So,” he ends, and waits for Jaejoong’s reaction. The other man was still through the whole thing, almost thoughtfully silent, and the longer the silence continues the more afraid Yoochun gets.
*
10:56 on Saturday morning and Yoochun is at the Starbean Peet’s Best on Development Avenue, staring determinedly into the frothy top of his latte macchiato and ignoring everything around him. He’s ignoring Jaejoong, who’s sitting off in a corner and trying to pretend like he’s not watching Yoochun on the sly.
There is nothing sly about Jaejoong. He’s even worse than Yoochun at this whole secret-watching thing- even behind dark-tinted Ray-Ban’s his stare is obvious like burning. The magazine he’s holding hasn’t had a single turn of the page since they got to the café nearly :20 ago.
But nothing Yoochun could have done could have dissuaded Jaejoong from coming, from meeting Yoochun’s secret boy-toy (which Junsu is not; Jaejoong has just taken to calling him that and god help him but Yoochun’s brain won’t let it go now-) and so now Yoochun’s stuck with him here, and can only pray that Jaejoong stays in his corner and doesn’t do anything to make this the worst casual business meeting (coffee date!) ever.
Junsu is supposed to meet him here at 11:00. Yoochun knows how prompt the kid is, and doesn’t doubt that he’ll be here exactly on time, not a moment sooner. It doesn’t stop him from anxiously counting down the minutes, the seconds, the heel of his right foot bouncing like it’s possessed. Like he can burn up all his nervous energy out of him in three- no, two minutes left, now.
“You should try and breathe,” Jaejoong shouts across the shop, and Yoochun takes a desperate sip of his drink, head thrown back all the way. And of course it goes down the wrong pipe, foam stuck and tickling light but maddening at the back of his throat. He hacks and sputters and flails and he can hear Jaejoong cackling in the corner, the asshole.
And of course that’s also the moment the bell chimes and the door swings in. All the air in the room shifts with the sudden breeze, the change in pressure, and Yoochun can feel it in his lungs, a spasm just a little below that pesky heart in his throat.
Plaid board shorts, he notes, trying to catch his breath. Of course. Pink hair clips. Low-strung tank-top, and wow collarbones- not helping. Not helping at all.
“Um… Mr. Park?” Junsu says, having spotted him, smiling hesitantly down at him.
He thinks he hears Jaejoong snort, in his not-far-enough-away corner. He twitches but soldiers on. “Junsu,” he smiles, standing, reaching out a hand. “Good of you to make it on time,” he says, kicking himself a moment later for the business in his tone.
Junsu colors prettily. “Uh, yeah,” he says, even as he shakes hands. He seems awkward. It’s cute, Yoochun decides. Usually he dislikes awkward people -they’re indecisive, inept. Yoochun is nothing if not efficient.
Then again, Yoochun is nothing like himself, these days.
“How’ve you been?” he asks, trying for casual, familiar. His hand fiddles restlessly with the handle of his coffee mug.
“Good,” Junsu answer slowly, as if he’s afraid it’s a trick question. “Not much different from, uh, usual.”
Yoochun nods thoughtfully, thinking. “Good,” he echoes. “Good. Did you want anything to drink?”
He jerks his head towards the counter and Junsu perks up. “Oh, yeah. I don’t really drink coffee but I like some of the drinks here. There are so many things you can add! I have to get decaf or else I get really shaky but there are all these flavors, I always add at least four pumps of something-”
The kid stops abruptly yet again, wide-eyed and artless, and there’s a pause, and then Yoochun smiles, something fond growing in him. “Alright,” he says gently. “Order whatever you want- it’s on me.”
He hears a cough that sounds suspiciously like Jaejoong, but he ignores it much more easily this time. Junsu looks shy, again, and asks “Wow, really? Thanks,” in such a genuine tone that it makes Yoochun want to buy him the world.
“Sure,” he answers instead, shrugging loosely. “I asked you to meet me, didn’t I? Least I can do.”
He waves a hand and it’s not like the baristas to come out from behind the counter, but Yoochun is V-I-P, and the snub-nosed kid who works this shift doesn’t waste time coming over.
“Hi hyung!” he says, batting his eyelashes.
“Hey Kibum- Key,” he amends, remembering the kid’s nickname-of-the-month. “Can I get another? And, Junsu, what do you…?”
Junsu rattles off something that sounds more like a chemical equation than a coffee drink, and Yoochun wanted to be smooth and repeat the order to Key, but instead he just kind of leans back in his seat and says, “Yes. He’ll have that.”
Junsu gives him a happy look, though, and it’s worth it.
Key doesn’t look so pleased. He gives Yoochun a sideways glance that’s not returned and then stares flatly at Junsu. “…do you want whipcream on that.”
“Uh, sure!”
“Whatever.” He stomps off and Junsu blinks in the aftermath, but Yoochun tells him not to worry.
“He’s like that to most people.”
The kid chews on his lip. “He was nice to you.”
“I have money,” Yoochun says blandly, and Junsu tilts his head curiously. He’s got a bird-like air about him, Yoochun thinks, like he’s really interested and yet somehow careless; impulsive, ready to flit off at any moment. He’s natural, uncomplicated -like the implications and artifice of money don’t quite register.
“I give big tips,” he clarifies, and Junsu’s mouth drops open even as he nods in understanding.
“Oh. I guess that’s why people aren’t nice to me,” he says. “I don’t have any cents.”
And Yoochun frowns sharply, all ready to defend Junsu from himself- but a second later Junsu shrugs and his lips quirk and oh, it’s a joke. A really, really bad joke. He snorts and Junsu’s mouth twists up just that much higher. It’s a victory, of sorts.
When Key comes down and drops their drinks down onto the table, the smack of ceramic on fake wood is like the shot of a gun.
Yoochun coughs and reaches his wallet, handing over a few bills as he says in a gruff, no I did not jump like a little girl tone, “Thanks Key.” Junsu echoes him, a hesitant “Thanks,” murmured into the rim of his sprinkled-covered cup. Key opens his mouth only to shut it again fast and flounce off, but the whole time Yoochun only has eyes for the young man in front of him.
Junsu comes away from his cup with whip cream at the corner of his smile. He smacks his lips together and makes a soft, happy noise of satisfaction.
Yoochun leans forward, elbows on the table and chin in his hands. He sighs, because this is a different sort of satisfaction all on its own.
Junsu takes a few more sips before wiping his lips, the whip cream smearing onto the side of his fist. “So, uh, Mr. Park-”
“Yoochun,” Yoochun says.
“Yoochun,” Junsu copies easily. “You wanted to talk about, um. Music? Or something,” he pauses, and fidgets nervously. “I wasn’t really- I mean, I was, I was totally- but it was really unexpected and so it’s all crazy-rushed in my memory, and I know you said you’re in music and that’s really cool, and then all of a sudden I was singing and then you said we should meet and talk and, um.”
Yoochun has to take a second to sort that all out in his head. “You’re right,” he ends up saying. “I did want to meet and talk. Do you know why?”
Junsu shrugs sheepishly and Yoochun has to shake his head, lean back and straighten into something more assured. “You’re an interesting person, Junsu. Not many people would just agree to a meeting without knowing why.”
Junsu’s sheepish look stays and his shoulders hitch up slightly. Yoochun has a moment, a sinking feeling that he’s a horrible, horrible person for making the kid look like that, but then Junsu says- “You’re business card was too nice to be fake. And…uh, you seemed nice, too.”
-and Yoochun rises right back up, head into the clouds. Junsu’s grin is shy and Yoochun feels light-headed- like he’s on one of those rollercoaster rides that shoots you straight up into the air and if you stare up all you see is sky, and it’s like you’re rocketing off into space and you’ll keep going and going- but then you slow and stop and in that moment, right before the fall, you feel like you’re flying.
Yeah, Yoochun thinks he kinda feels like that.
*
So they talk music. They start somewhere around Junsu’s headphones and his scratched-up brick of a 3rd gen iPod-
“This is a classic! Seriously, I know some tech guys who’d like to put this in a museum,” Yoochun crows, touching the novelty of the buttons under the screen.
“My brother got it for me for our twelfth birthday,” Junsu says. “It meant a lot, back then… I just, um, haven’t been able to give it since.”
Yoochun notes the ‘our’ in that birthday (because holy crap, twins?) and also the birthday itself (because holy fuck, twelve??)
“So that’d make you… 20?” he asks, hoping without much hope.
“19,” Junsu shrugs, oblivious, and runs his thumb over the wheel-scroll.
“COUGHMYGODCOUGH,” coughs Jaejoong, in the background.
Yoochun changes the subject quickly.
Junsu’s favorite style of music is pop, the sort of teeny-bop that makes Yoochun cringe, but then the kid follows it up with a list of almost-favorites that send him reeling- jazz and R&B and electro hop and a capella and indie folk and popera, and Yoochun finally has to cut him off.
“That’s a lot of styles.”
Junsu’s eyes are wide and heartfelt. “There’s a lot of music!”
Yoochun smiles and confesses he likes pop, too, but he works with mostly pop artists and it gets old, after a while. Junsu nods, and it’s the sort that says he understands but doesn’t really get it. So Yoochun moves on, says he likes jazz and anything that can produce a pure, acoustic sound.
They get into a momentary debate about the merits and persistence of autotune, but it’s an argument as old as autotune itself (which, Yoochun thinks, might actually be older than Junsu), so he lets it go without much fuss.
He tells Junsu he plays the piano, instead, and guitar, though he’s better at the former. He went to university for music-
“Wow, like, you got a degree in music and uh, everything?”
“Music theory and a minor in performance,” Yoochun answers. It’s the first time he’s said that in a long time and felt close to proud about it; the first time he hasn’t had to admit that no, my degree wasn’t business. Or econ. Or marketing. Or- and that he doesn’t get a look that says, oh, you’re one of those types.
“Awesome,” Junsu says, and he’s got a chocolate sprinkle on his cheek.
“It was,” Yoochun says.
-and, though he doesn’t get a chance to play much anymore, he tries to keep his skills fresh, when he has the time. He taught his best friend to play, a few years back. He’s never been a strong signer, or songwriter, but if he had time he’d definitely do more of both. Junsu’s lucky he has a voice like he does, even untrained as it is.
“Thanks,” Junsu says, but doesn’t say much more until Yoochun prompts him.
No, Junsu can’t play any instruments. No, he can’t write music. No, he’s never even tried. He’s never had any formal lessons, and he’s not planning on going to school for it, either. He’s not going to school at all.
Yoochun’s eyebrows hitch up. “Why not?”
Junsu shrugs. “Don’t wanna.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Huh?”
“What do you do then? Are you working -where you go every morning?”
Raising a hand, Junsu kneads the back of his neck anxiously. The whole time they’ve been talking he’s seemed unable to keep still, which Yoochun finds wholly unsurprising. “I work… yeah. I’m, uh, a delivery guy. For an office supply company. I pick up order forms from places around, and deliver them each morning to the main building. It’s not-”
He shrugs again.
“Sounds like it’s something you’re passionate about,” Yoochun says dryly.
Junsu chews on his lip, but doesn’t answer.
Yoochun shakes his head. “I’ll be level with you, Junsu. I didn’t ask you here just to talk about music. You’ve got charisma and the sort of raw talent a lot of people I know would kill for -and, honestly, I think if you wanted to do something with it, you could go far. As a musician and a businessman… with a voice like yours?” he pauses, full of gravitas, and finishes with a weighty “You could be a star.”
The silence afterwards is equally dramatic, and he’s content to let the words sink in.
And yet, somehow, the kid doesn’t seem absolutely thrilled. No happy surprise- no flattered blush. He actually frowns when he looks up at Yoochun. “You really think so?”
What the hell? he thinks, but tries to keep his head straight. He’s used to sales, not talent scouting; this isn’t exactly going how he expected. He tries for the honesty route, and digs deep into that part that’s truly curious about the true extent of this kid’s potential.
Clearing his throat- “And, Junsu, you seem like a really nice person, too. That’s why I’m offering to help you personally, and not directing you to someone else, throwing you to company wolves, as it were-” well, it’s at least one reason why- “and you said it yourself, you love music.”
“I do,” Junsu confirms, and somehow manages to sound both enthusiastic and unenthusiastic at the same.
“I’m not asking you to commit to anything. No contracts, nothing. But if you’re interested in moving forward in this direction, if you’re really passionate about it, I can provide… something. Coaching, of sorts. Help you get a foot in the door. It’s all about who know,” he adds, grinning his best charming grin.
Junsu smiles back like he can’t help it, but then hides it by another deep drink from his coffee. When he sets the cup back down it’s a dull thud- hollow, empty, finished.
“Um. Thank you so much for the coffee, Mr. P- Yoochun,” he says, tugging the strap of his satchel.
Warning bells start ringing in Yoochun’s head, an alarm that buzzes something terrible. He doesn’t know when the situation came to this, but he feels it quickly slipping out of his control. His casual coffee date disappeared somewhere along the line, right around the time he realized he actually meant the proposition he was making, and he can see it all dwindling, slipping finely out of his grasp, all too fast.
Junsu shifts like he’s ready to stand and Yoochun shoots a quick, desperate glance at Jaejoong- who he’d almost forgotten, whose Ray Ban’s again do nothing to hide the unexpected, concentrated expression of concern on his face.
The motion of Junsu standing jars Yoochun back to the situation at hand. “Wait-”
“Really, thanks,” Junsu interrupts, bouncing on the balls his feet. “It was really nice talking to you and, uh, I appreciate the offer and everything. But, um. No thanks?”
Yoochun’s mouth drops, whether in dismay or shock he doesn’t really know. Junsu gives him one last sheepish, apologetic shrug, and then he walks out of the café.
*
Yoochun’s stomach churns painfully; too much caffeine, he tells himself. It’s such a bad lie it makes him even more nauseous, and he fear if he opens his mouth something’s going to come out -real vomit or word vomit, he doesn’t know what’ll be more damaging to his pride. He’s struck silent, staring at the whorls on the fake wood table.
He sits that way for approximately 2 minutes before the June issue of Cosmo flies through the air, cleaving 50 papercuts into his skull.
“What the f-ow.”
“You’re an idiot,” Jaejoong says, following the same trajectory as the magazine. People are staring again and Jaejoong swoops down and picks his Cosmo off the café floor, rolling it up so he can smack Yoochun again. “Idiot.”
Yoochun holds his head in his hands but turns enough to glare up Jaejoong- but Jaejoong glares right back. “Go after him!” he cries, smacking again for good measure. “Go!”
Yoochun doesn’t need to be told twice.
*
-And welcome back, listeners! This is K-CASS 102.5, and I’m your host Yunho, U-Know! It’s a sunny, beautiful, sunny sunny day in Thebigcity and we’ve got some sunny, beautiful music for all you morning commuters! But right now I’d like to give a big welcome to MISS SUNNY for coming in today to talk with us-!
Oh, haha, thank you-
-Thank you, Miss Sunny, and I know none of our listeners can see you right now, but it’s their loss, because wow, you are looking as beautiful as sunshine today!
Ahh, Yunho-sshi, you’re too nice! I’m blushing, haha.
I’m only saying the truth! We tell no lies here at K-CASS-
Jaejoong flicks off the radio with a disgusted sigh. “Wow, gross.”
Yoochun glances over only briefly. “Hm?”
“Honestly, like anyone is going to buy that flirting. That guy is so far from straight he’s practically a right angle. No one’s that happy and not gayer than a handbag full of rainbows.”
Yoochun snorts. “I thought he was just a morning person.”
“That too,” Jaejoong mutters darkly. “I don’t know which is worse.”
“If you like him that much, I could always introduce you.”
Jaejoong shoots him a look half-way between offended and panicked. “You know U-Know?”
He chuckles. “I know someone who knows someone who knows him, I’m sure. He broadcasts in the same building as us, a couple floors down.”
Jaejoong stares at him and Yoochun can’t fathom what’s going on in that unfathomable brain of his, but after a second he huffs and jerks back into his seat in the car and mumbles something to the effect of, “No, of course not. Pssh.”
“Whatever you say,” he sighs, and eases his foot off the gas break so he can inch forward another half foot or so. Morning traffic, again, and he sighs, again. “Remind me why you’re here, Jaejoong?”
“Because it’s been a week and you haven’t talked to Junsu again,” Jaejoong says plainly. Obviously you’re doing it wrong.”
“Obviously,” Yoochun grunts.
But Jaejoong’s right -he’d lost Junsu in the crowd two blocks away from Starbean’s (and learned that holy crap he needed to start going to the gym again). Since then, he’s tried to catch Junsu again, to sneak up and coerce him into another meeting or two or forever.
And maybe Yoochun is doing it wrong, because this is what he’s got so far, and it’s not pretty:
Monday: He saw Junsu, he waved. Junsu even waved back, smiled, and then kept dancing as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
Tuesday: He followed Junsu to the side-street but when he got close the kid bent down to the window and said, “Hi Yoochun! Nice weather, yah? Sorry I can’t talk I’m kinda on schedule, but maybe sometime-!” and then quick-stepped it into the building. He didn’t come out and within :10, Yoochun was forced to cut his losses.
Wednesday: He tried catching him on Themain Street instead, pulling up close to the curb and sticking his head out the window and everything- but Junsu was walking with his eyes closed and couldn’t even hear him. Yoochun drove into a parked car.
Thursday: He missed Junsu completely (-and yet, somehow, was even more late to work than usual. He got the stink eye from his boss, had to sit through a meeting listening to Hyukjae’s crazy idea about reorganizing contracts into a percent-yield color-coded filing system, and had to grit his teeth and say nothing when Changmin threw infuriating little notes at his head that said things like Have u looked @ the expense reports yet? and When are u going to sign off on the WENUS?? and I like u. Do u like me? Check yes or no.
He wrote fuck in front of the no and dropped it into Changmin’s cup of coffee, and the bitch-face Changmin made after that kind of made his day.)
But today is Friday, and Jaejoong, ever-impatient Jaejoong, is unimpressed with this track record. He thinks Yoochun should be more proactive.
“Why aren’t you more proactive?” he’d said. “You’re a marketing exec!”
“Exactly,” he’d replied. “I’m a businessman, Jaejoong, not a pimple cream.”
This simple logic did nothing to sway Jaejoong, to Yoochun’s absolute unsurprise -and now all he can do is raise his eyes to the pleather ceiling of his shitty loaner car and pray to whoever is listening. “Alright, what’s the plan?” he sighs.
“No idea!” Jaejoong says cheerfully. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
“Jaejoong,” he chastises, glancing at the clock. It’s 6:47 and they’re less than a block away- “We are there! The bridge is crossed. I let you come with me and- hey wait what are you doing?!”
He cries out even as he slams on the brake and just in time, because Jaejoong’s already got the door open, ready to step out into the street. He yells, “Ohmygod, Jae, close the door!” because they’re in the middle lane and even if they’re going less than ten miles an hour, you don’t step out into the middle of the street and expect everything to just turn out fine and dandy!
But Jaejoong just turns to and says, “Hey, stop here for a second!” as if Yoochun hasn’t already had a heart attack and Jaejoong hasn’t already gotten out of the car.
“Jaejoong-” he hisses, “Jaejoong! Get back here!” But the older man is already shutting the door and jogging over to the sidewalk.
The light’s changed so the other cars have all stopped, thank god, and Yoochun doesn’t have a chance to stop freaking out because as soon as Jaejoong hops over the curb he spots Junsu (lavender suit jacket, bow-tie, camo-green cargo pants, and wow, that might be a new record of awful) moon-walks into view.
Yoochun ducks his head even as Jaejoong sneak up around an oblivious Junsu. When red becomes green and green becomes go now or get rear-ended, Yoochun pulls into the slow-lane and coasts with his emergency lights flashing. He gets honked at but at least he knows Junsu won’t hear, those Grado’s keeping him wrapped up in a much more salient sound. He turns the first corner he crosses but stays parked on the curve- unable to do anything except sit and watch the train-wreck that is Jaejoong crossing that bridge.
He’s too far away to hear anything, of course, but he sees Jaejoong skip-step up to Junsu and tap him on the shoulder. He sees Junsu whirl around and slip off his head phones with confusion tilted onto his face. He sees Jaejoong put on his best wide-eyed earnest expression and talk with his hands just as much as voice. He sees Junsu’s uncertainty dissolve into amazement, pleasure, something that might be thoughtful… or maybe just a different sort of surprise?
Yoochun thinks he looks thoughtful, though.
But what does that even mean?
Jaejoong says something else and then grins and turns, walking down the street without looking back -but Yoochun sees Junsu watch him with that same wondering look. A second later he too turns, and disappears from sight.
Yoochun rubs his hands together anxiously and waits for Jaejoong to slip into the passenger seat -which he does with an insufferably smug look.
“Well?” Yoochun demands.
Jaejoong clucks his tongue, reaching down to flick the radio fob. “So demanding,” he huffs.
“Jaejoong,” he wails. “What did you talk to him about? What did you say? What did he say?!”
Jaejoong gives him a thin smile that da Vinci would approve of. “You’ll see.”
Yoochun boogles. “You can’t seriously-”
“You’ll see,” Jaejoong repeats himself. And no matter what Yoochun does, no matter how loud he shrieks, Jaejoong won’t say another word.
*
Yoochun has half a mind on work, half a mind on the corner where Jaejoong and Chagnmin stand, heads bent together as they whisper and giggle and look at him. It’s terrifying, really.
Changmin leans over Jaejoong and gives him a sleazy grin, one that makes Yoochun want a bath just having witnessed it; but Jaejoong soaks it up, like it’s rose-scented water instead of a tub of grease.
He really, really hopes nothing happens between them.
Then Jaejoong ducks his head, digging through his giant man-purse, and Changmin takes the moment to look up at Yoochun and throw him a ridiculously happy like a wonky-eyed kid in a candy-themed porn shop thumbs up.
Well, Yoochun amends, maybe something can happen. If it makes them happy, and doesn’t make his life hell -which it probably will anyway, damnit.
He sighs and is about to put his signature on the umpteenth report of the day when his pager (yes, he still has a pager, shutup) buzzes in the Gucci leather holster he keeps on his belt. The number isn’t one he recognizes, but he taps it into his Bluetooth anyway, answering “Park Yoochun, division manager.”
“Oh wow that was fast. Um. Yoo- Mr. Par- Yoochun? It’s Junsu. Kim Junsu? We met-”
“Junsu!” he cries, throwing himself back into his seat in shock. He coughs then, to bring his voice back down to normal level. “Junsu, yes, of course I remember. What’s-” another cough- “up?”
A quick glance to the side reveals Changmin looking at him curiously, and Jaejoong all but glowing with self-satisfaction. “It’s him, yah?” he mouths.
“Yah,” he mimes back, even as Junsu is saying. “Well, um… I was wondering if you’d be willing to talk, again. About, um, y’know-”
“I know,” Yoochun says. (Jaejoong mouths “I told you so.” Yoochun gives him the finger). “And of course I would. I’d be willing to talk about anything-”
Junsu sounds pleased. “Really?”
“Sure,” Yoochun says, trying to infuse a winsome amount of warmth into his voice. “When would be a good time?”
The sound of Junsu thinking is audible, a lot of ums and uhs and in the meantime Yoochun slaps at Changmin, who’s snuck closer to try and peak a look at the mystery caller, because he’s a nosy little shit like that.
Changmin says, “Who is it? Hyung-”
And Yoochun whispers, “Shut up-”
-just as Junsu says, “Would Saturday work again? It’s short notice but-”
“Hyung!”
“God, stop- go away.”
“E-excuse me?”
Shit, Yoochun thinks. “Oh, not you, Junsu. Sorry. I’m at work and the building, I swear, it’s infested with pests.” He glares at Changmin.
“Oh,” Junsu says.
“I know,” he says, glaring harder when Changmin rolls his eyes. “They really should do something about it.”
His co-worker sticks out his tongue, but then Jaejoong puts his hand on his arm and it’s like a switch has been flipped, because Changmin goes all pliant and stars fill his eyes and Jaejoong steers him away without another word of protest.
“Let’s go get some food,” he says.
“I love your brain,” Changmin says back.
That’s a first, Yoochun snorts, and Jaejoong throws a sharp look over his shoulder that says both You wish you had brains like this and You owe me SO HARD. Then he smiles sweetly up at Changmin, and Changmin smiles back, and they waltz off to the who-knows-where.
Yoochun thinks they might have orchestrated that, and that he’s probably fucked -but he can’t care about that now, because he’s got Junsu on the line.
“Saturday actually sounds great,” he tells Junsu. “What made you change your mind?”
“Uh, well, it’s kinda funny, but I met this- it was really random, but he said some things. And I never really thought about it, so I thought it wasn’t for me, but… I’ve been thinking about it. Since then.”
“Thinking is good,” Yoochun says, and immediately wants to smack himself.
But Junsu laughs quietly. “Yeah.”
“Alright,” Yoochun breaths, and even though they’re talking quietly his mind is screaming it’s thoughts, utter cacophony. “Alright. Saturday it is, then. We can either meet at the café again, or if you wanted, maybe, you could… You could come to my place, I have some equipment-”
“Yoochun,” Junsu says suddenly, softly, but Yoochun stops, 60mph to 0 in a half-second flat.
“Yoochun… I want to meet again. But, I’m not- I can’t make any promises. I’m probably not-”
He can hear a thousand things at the end of that and sighs, but inwardly steals himself. No giving up. “Junsu, I said I’d helped you- and I won’t take that back. I won’t let your talent go to waste, if you let me.”
Yoochun has never meant anything more in his entire life …but the silence drags on for a really long time, and Yoochun hold his breath. When Junsu finally says “Ok,” Yoochun feels something he hasn’t in a long time -anticipation, hope, inspiration. It’s a heady feeling.
Then Junsu adds- “Your place would be great. I’ll be there at noon?” -and Yoochun agrees and gives him the address and they hang up.
And then Yoochun dives for his lunch, dumps the contents all over his desk, and spends the next five minutes with his head between his knees, breathing into the emptied brown paper-bag.
This is how Changmin and Jaejoong find him.
“I think he’s broken,” Changmin comments.
“I’m still your boss,” Yoochun groans.
“You’re a sad sack of sadness.” Changmin says.
He glances up at Jaejoong, but his best friend only shrugs. Traitor.
[NEXT]
started writing: 3/17/11
finished writing: 7/7/11
master list
Guyz, seriously, I could make a whole soap opera out of this thing. The magical Yoosu rollercoaster is just getting started but Part 2 /will/ be the end... of this particular story :D/ Spin-offs will never be ruled out, and Jaejoong can be such a demanding muse :'D
Also to note, for those who're keeping an eye out, I'll be traveling for the next couple of months so as much as I was hoping to finish this before I left, no such luck. Part Deux might be a liiiiiittle bit slower in coming, but it'll be great. Really ;A;