hc_bingo fic: combat
Title: Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow
Fandom: DBSK
Pairing: Jaejoong/unknown
Prompt: Combat
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 922
Summary: The war was lost years ago. All that’s left is for the survivors to die prolonging the inevitable. Yet every night he watches Jaejoong and waits.
AN: Written, as the subject and tag say, for hc_bingo. Masterpost with game card is here.
AN2: Normally I dislike disclaimers like this, but I wrote this without assigning the POV to a specific character. I have my own suspicions of who it is, but feel free to make your own decisions. Feel free to let me know your guesses, too! Not sure there's a wrong answer.
Casualties were through the roof. Someone he didn’t know
-they were under his command now and he didn’t know them-
was crying in the corner. Probably a new conscript. They’d been taking any boys they could find who looked even nearly old enough to hold a weapon for months now
-see where that had got them-
so it was only understandable if a few of them broke under the pressure. Losses were to be expected. He’d learned that in his officer training, all two weeks of it. That was all they could afford to have perfectly good troops off the front line, two weeks. Everyone knew they were losing, and quickly. That didn’t exactly help morale, either.
He watched one of his sergeants move among the men. Jaejoong.
-thank any god he wasn’t dead-
He’d learned that name and well two years ago when he’d first been placed under Jaejoong’s command after he finished basic training. Jaejoong wasn’t what anyone would call career military. More like he’d somehow ended up adopting all the people who were, so how could he leave? Even now, he was going from person to person, checking to see which faces were gone as much as giving comfort to the ones who remained. He kept one hand on his gun the entire time.
He sighed. Why couldn’t they have sent Jaejoong for officer training after the last lieutenant was killed? Except he knew why. Jaejoong would never agree. Jaejoong would rather be down there, with them, than up here adding numbers and treating people like chess pieces in the endgame.
As if knowing he was being watched, Jaejoong looked up, hand still on the shoulder of a boy who couldn’t have legally been of conscription age, to catch his eye. Jaejoong smiled, just a bit, as much acknowledgement as reassurance. Even he wasn’t just a face or a number, not to Jaejoong. Which was probably the worst part. They were all going to die, they knew that perfectly well, and when they died, everything good about their home would die with them, because who would defend it against the enemy after they were gone? For all the worthless soldiers like him, there was a person like Jaejoong in the world, and that loss was unacceptable.
And yet, inevitable.
He reminded himself that he had a job to do that didn’t include watching Jaejoong
-he’d watch him forever if he could-
and turned back to surveying the abandoned front. The enemy had disappeared into nothing, as they always did. Their technology, their manpower, the fighting prowess, everything so far eclipsed his humble home’s abilities, but still they fought. Even when he didn’t know why
-for Jaejoong. for people like Jaejoong-
they fought anymore. Even when he didn’t know how they were supposed to keep going.
A creak on the stairs behind him made him turn, hand halfway to his weapon before he caught sight of those familiar wide, amazing eyes. Jaejoong.
-innocent, trusting, how could they still be?-
He greeted Jaejoong with a nod which was returned equally silently. Words crumbled and died too quickly to bother with out here. Sound curdled like it was already among the dead ahead of them. They both turned back to watching the desolate front. He knew why Jaejoong was here. The same reason Jaejoong was there for everyone else in the trench, those somehow still living and those already dead.
-at sunset, he would sing the way for those lost. he was the only one who remembered-
Sometimes he wondered if Jaejoong wasn’t some spirit, some ghost or apparition, sent to keep them company until they joined him. But no, Jaejoong
-his hands, his eyes, his heartbeat in the late hours-
was too warm to be a ghost, to be dead and buried somewhere forgotten. Except soon, he would be. They all would be.
“You should leave. Before it’s too late.”
That same wry smile. “And leave you all here alone?”
“Yes.”
“Where would I go?”
-anywhere not here-
“Somewhere safe.” His heart clenched. There was no such place. “Somewhere else.”
Jaejoong just smiled, a warm hand pressed to his cold cheek. “My place is here.”
That was where it ended. That was where it always ended. Every night, eternally it felt like, caught between life and death and nowhere at all. A moment of calm, and understanding, and the end of hope.
His hand covered Jaejoong’s on his cheek. It was the only thing he touched. So warm. Just like Jaejoong. “We are losing.”
“I know.”
“We’ll be dead soon.”
-you’ll be dead, please don’t-
A twitch of the fingers against his jaw. “I know that, too.”
He looked, and Jaejoong’s eyes held only sorrow, not for himself, never for himself, but for them. He released Jaejoong’s hand. “Will you sing tonight?”
Jaejoong’s smile bled back onto his face, a watery sort of resignation. “Of course.” He was the only one who remembered. Who else would sing for them? Who would sing for Jaejoong?
-Jaejoong was going to die-
He nodded, not trusting his treacherous words. Anything could happen in this horrible place. The words could change to lies between his lips and Jaejoong’s ears.
He watched this time, studied Jaejoong closely as he made his way back down among the troops, clasping hands or pressing warm fingers to other cold cheeks, giving comfort where he could and sharing pain where he couldn’t.
They were all going to die soon.
-Jaejoong was going to die-
They were not dead yet.
Fandom: DBSK
Pairing: Jaejoong/unknown
Prompt: Combat
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 922
Summary: The war was lost years ago. All that’s left is for the survivors to die prolonging the inevitable. Yet every night he watches Jaejoong and waits.
AN: Written, as the subject and tag say, for hc_bingo. Masterpost with game card is here.
AN2: Normally I dislike disclaimers like this, but I wrote this without assigning the POV to a specific character. I have my own suspicions of who it is, but feel free to make your own decisions. Feel free to let me know your guesses, too! Not sure there's a wrong answer.
Casualties were through the roof. Someone he didn’t know
-they were under his command now and he didn’t know them-
was crying in the corner. Probably a new conscript. They’d been taking any boys they could find who looked even nearly old enough to hold a weapon for months now
-see where that had got them-
so it was only understandable if a few of them broke under the pressure. Losses were to be expected. He’d learned that in his officer training, all two weeks of it. That was all they could afford to have perfectly good troops off the front line, two weeks. Everyone knew they were losing, and quickly. That didn’t exactly help morale, either.
He watched one of his sergeants move among the men. Jaejoong.
-thank any god he wasn’t dead-
He’d learned that name and well two years ago when he’d first been placed under Jaejoong’s command after he finished basic training. Jaejoong wasn’t what anyone would call career military. More like he’d somehow ended up adopting all the people who were, so how could he leave? Even now, he was going from person to person, checking to see which faces were gone as much as giving comfort to the ones who remained. He kept one hand on his gun the entire time.
He sighed. Why couldn’t they have sent Jaejoong for officer training after the last lieutenant was killed? Except he knew why. Jaejoong would never agree. Jaejoong would rather be down there, with them, than up here adding numbers and treating people like chess pieces in the endgame.
As if knowing he was being watched, Jaejoong looked up, hand still on the shoulder of a boy who couldn’t have legally been of conscription age, to catch his eye. Jaejoong smiled, just a bit, as much acknowledgement as reassurance. Even he wasn’t just a face or a number, not to Jaejoong. Which was probably the worst part. They were all going to die, they knew that perfectly well, and when they died, everything good about their home would die with them, because who would defend it against the enemy after they were gone? For all the worthless soldiers like him, there was a person like Jaejoong in the world, and that loss was unacceptable.
And yet, inevitable.
He reminded himself that he had a job to do that didn’t include watching Jaejoong
-he’d watch him forever if he could-
and turned back to surveying the abandoned front. The enemy had disappeared into nothing, as they always did. Their technology, their manpower, the fighting prowess, everything so far eclipsed his humble home’s abilities, but still they fought. Even when he didn’t know why
-for Jaejoong. for people like Jaejoong-
they fought anymore. Even when he didn’t know how they were supposed to keep going.
A creak on the stairs behind him made him turn, hand halfway to his weapon before he caught sight of those familiar wide, amazing eyes. Jaejoong.
-innocent, trusting, how could they still be?-
He greeted Jaejoong with a nod which was returned equally silently. Words crumbled and died too quickly to bother with out here. Sound curdled like it was already among the dead ahead of them. They both turned back to watching the desolate front. He knew why Jaejoong was here. The same reason Jaejoong was there for everyone else in the trench, those somehow still living and those already dead.
-at sunset, he would sing the way for those lost. he was the only one who remembered-
Sometimes he wondered if Jaejoong wasn’t some spirit, some ghost or apparition, sent to keep them company until they joined him. But no, Jaejoong
-his hands, his eyes, his heartbeat in the late hours-
was too warm to be a ghost, to be dead and buried somewhere forgotten. Except soon, he would be. They all would be.
“You should leave. Before it’s too late.”
That same wry smile. “And leave you all here alone?”
“Yes.”
“Where would I go?”
-anywhere not here-
“Somewhere safe.” His heart clenched. There was no such place. “Somewhere else.”
Jaejoong just smiled, a warm hand pressed to his cold cheek. “My place is here.”
That was where it ended. That was where it always ended. Every night, eternally it felt like, caught between life and death and nowhere at all. A moment of calm, and understanding, and the end of hope.
His hand covered Jaejoong’s on his cheek. It was the only thing he touched. So warm. Just like Jaejoong. “We are losing.”
“I know.”
“We’ll be dead soon.”
-you’ll be dead, please don’t-
A twitch of the fingers against his jaw. “I know that, too.”
He looked, and Jaejoong’s eyes held only sorrow, not for himself, never for himself, but for them. He released Jaejoong’s hand. “Will you sing tonight?”
Jaejoong’s smile bled back onto his face, a watery sort of resignation. “Of course.” He was the only one who remembered. Who else would sing for them? Who would sing for Jaejoong?
-Jaejoong was going to die-
He nodded, not trusting his treacherous words. Anything could happen in this horrible place. The words could change to lies between his lips and Jaejoong’s ears.
He watched this time, studied Jaejoong closely as he made his way back down among the troops, clasping hands or pressing warm fingers to other cold cheeks, giving comfort where he could and sharing pain where he couldn’t.
They were all going to die soon.
-Jaejoong was going to die-
They were not dead yet.