The Blind leading the Blind (1/2)

[enigmaxempress]

Title: The Blind Leading the Blind (1/2)
Pairing: Junsu/Yunho, miniscule Junho/Yunho
Author: vaguelynormal
Rating: R
Warning: Serious themes, character with a disability, and the author insists that readers be warned that this is long and boring. Her beta disagrees.
Summary: Yunho doesn’t say anything. He thinks of the quiet of this house and how it’s somehow less stifling than his own. He doesn’t want to think about how surprisingly comforted he feels to be in the company of the twins.



The air is stagnant and cold inside the car. Yunho shifts slightly in the seat, drums his fingers over the dashboard and slumps back exhausted. The sharp scent of petrol pervades the air. It’s too early for most to be awake and moving, but Yunho can hear the low hum of growing traffic and the distorted voices of the gas station attendant’s talk back radio. Yunho hears the clink of the pump being disconnected, the pop of the cap snapping into its rightful place and Yoochun, his minder, humming a simple melody as he strolls into the building. He sits, content to wait and too weary to do much else. There's a scuffle and the driver's door is yanked open, the car bouncing lightly as if on springs as Yoochun slides in.

There’s an odd desperation to the clinking of the keys, already left poised in the ignition- a strange urgency as the engine surges to life. The driver swears inventively under his breath and the car lurches forward, taking sharp turns and the squeal of tyres hurts Yunho’s ears.

Belatedly, Yunho realises it’s not Yoochun’s voice repeatedly cursing beside him.

Yunho tenses as the horror and panic washes over him, bracing himself against the car door as the car swings around several corners. He tugs violently against his seatbelt until the material catches, using the safety lock for leverage. The car brakes suddenly and Yunho’s head connects bluntly with the dashboard. He muses briefly that it’s odd whoever has hijacked his car in such a panic has consideration to stop at lights but the shock dissipates and the throbbing in his skull renders his cognitive functions to shut down. He stutters wildly, unable to grasp the words, syllables too thick and awkward on his tongue. Instead he reaches out, feeling the air cautiously until his hand brushes along the corded muscle of the man’s thigh.

There’s a sharp intake of breath and a quiet filled only with the sound of their vehicle whipping through the wind at incredible speed, a low hum and buzz as the tyres spin furiously over coarse bitumen. His hand gets batted away and Yunho feels the press of a blunt, cylindrical object against his shoulder. He doesn’t bother to turn his head, but continues to grasp at air to touch the stranger once more.

The object pushes against his skin harder, ‘Just sit still and be quiet and you won’t get hurt.’ The stranger’s voice is soft and husky but Yunho can hear the fear there. ‘Hold this,’ The man offers and Yunho fumbles, holds out his palms- waiting.

The bag is far too large for Yunho’s cupped hands when it’s roughly shoved at him and it flops upside down on his lap. The man growls beside him so Yunho gropes at the bag, pulling it closer only to feel the fluttering of its contents falling around his ankles. He bends; searching for the contents scattered near his feet and feels the papery folds of what is undoubtedly money. He lets his fingers trail over the edges, seeks out the plasticised window of authenticity on each note. Yunho grabs several handfuls of the bills, shoving them back into the bag. Fingers scrape against the bristles of the carpeted floor until he’s satisfied it’s all back in the bag. The zipper sticks when Yunho tries to close it and he pokes at the plastic twisted in the metal teeth, yanking with brute force on the tab.

‘What the fuck- you’re going to rip it. Just untwist it,’ The driver snaps before reaching over and fumbling with zip himself, one hand on the wheel.

Yunho successfully seals the bag and as quick as the stranger withdraws, he’s back in Yunho’s personal space. Yunho feels a pinch near his thigh, ‘What are you trying to keep some of it for yourself, huh?’

Yunho stares blankly in the direction of the driver, his brow furrowed in confusion, ‘What are you blind? Put it all back in the bag,’ the stranger spits.

Yunho remains impassive; he’s tired, not feeling particularly well and the motion of the speeding car makes it considerably worse. He’s also got no chance of finding the money any time soon, which becomes even more apparent as the man snaps, seemingly frustrated that Yunho is yet to take the bills from his hands and put them into the bag.

‘Christ. You really are blind, aren’t you?’ Yunho feels a light brush of air fan over his face and suspects the stranger is waving his hand in front of his face. He closes his eyes because he’s not particularly fond of the sensation and begins to fear being struck. He nods.

There’s a thud as the driver flops back into his seat, ‘Jesus fucking Christ…’

They remain silent as several miles pass them by, flying over the freeway. Yunho has little grasp on the time that passes. There’s a loud transition as they turn onto dirt roads Yunho associates with countryside and he thinks they must be a long way out of the city now. The car tinkling as small debris flicks up underneath the spin of the tyres and makes contact with the bumper, occasionally plinking against the front windshield.

‘I’m sorry,’ The driver says softly and Yunho can sense the man’s pride in the tone. ‘I didn’t mean to- there were no other cars at the station to take and this one had the keys and everything.’

Yunho makes a quiet murmur of understanding; he can hear the man beside him tensely squeezing the steering wheel.

‘There are no bullets,’ The man blurts out.

‘What?’

‘There are no bullets- in the gun,’ The stranger continues, ‘I wouldn’t really shoot you.’

The driver seems to pause as he tries to read Yunho’s expression, ‘You knew it was a gun right?’ When I pointed it at you?’ His tone seems slightly horrified.

Yunho considers the question- remembers the dull barrel pressing into his skin. He finds himself undisturbed by the situation.

‘I knew,’ Yunho says, I just didn’t care.

His captor lets out a sigh of relief, ‘What’s your name?’

‘Yunho,’ He stares blankly ahead before turning to face the direction of the driver’s seat. ‘Yours?’

‘Junsu,’ The man says easily and then seems to swallow all other words, realising his error. Suddenly there’s near hysterical laughter and Yunho would jump if it weren’t oddly pleasant. A hand claps him on the shoulder, ‘I suppose you make a pretty crappy witness anyway,’ he says laughingly and Yunho can sense his smile.

Yunho laughs in agreement.

--

Junsu pulls up to the turn off. He eases the car down the dirt path, over the long grass and parks beside his own vehicle. This car is old and small but it’s still in better condition than his own in which the breaks are worn and the chassis is covered is rust spots. He lets out a sigh and climbs out the car, taking his bag from Yunho. He knows he’s got a long journey ahead, it’s almost noon already and he takes a long swig from the water bottle in the trunk of his car. Junsu looks over at the man he’s inadvertently kidnapped. Yunho is handsome, black hair cut nicely and his clothes well groomed. He has a pair of sweetly shaped lips, a beautiful caramel complexion and a nose not dissimilar to the great artists’ depictions of Greek gods sculpted in white marble. Junsu thinks he looks a little sad and a little like Junho- tired of living.

The grass rustles and crunches as he makes his way across the field, relieving himself against a tree. He turns his back on Yunho, even though he doesn’t need to enforce the privacy as he empties his bladder. Tucking himself back in, he wades back through the wheat and grass to Yunho’s car. He considers that Yunho probably needs to use the bathroom too and yanks open the passenger seat door. The man looks slightly startled but calms himself quickly, hands neatly folded in his lap.

‘Have you got a cell phone?’ Is what he asks instead.

‘No,’ Yunho murmurs, ‘My carer normally keeps that sort of thing for me.’ He twiddles his thumbs, ‘I have a tendency to lose things.’

A small smile twists Junsu’s mouth. He stares openly at Yunho and weighs up his options. His home is still hours away and Yunho is an incredible liability. Undoubtedly there’s already an alert out on himself and Yunho’s car, but also for Yunho himself. It’s even less favourable to Junsu to have a handicapped hostage, it distorts the severity of his crime ten-fold.

Junsu breathes deeply and glances up and over the field. Trees line the hill behind him, sparse and straight like headstones and their location is completely invisible from the road Junsu knows is mere metres from the cars. He knows that it will probably take weeks for anyone to find this spot, to find this car- it’s why he chose it. There’s nothing around for two hundred kilometres or more and barely any traffic other than the hurtling freight trucks, speeding their cargo into the next state. Junsu’s mind flashes with horrible images of Yunho stumbling his way into the forest hopelessly lost or out onto the road, only to be struck down by a semi-trailer.

Junsu knows in that moment he can’t leave Yunho here.

‘Come on,’ Junsu tugs at Yunho’s elbow, ’We’re switching cars.’

Yunho unbuckles his seatbelt and allows Junsu to lead him. The grass whips at his knees, rustling against his jeans as he stumbles lightly over the uneven ground and the sun beats down against his skin, sweat forming on the back of his neck. Junsu tells him there’s no sign of civilisation beside the road for as far as he can see and that if he needs to pee, just do so and Junsu promises to look away. When he’s done, Junsu guides him to a car, hand on his head as he eases into the passenger seat. Yunho’s not sure he likes being treated like glass but people have always had a hard time treading the fine line between consideration and indignity with his condition.

Junsu pulls out onto the road, his old car croaking and coughing to life. The suspension is shot, making the ride over the rough road a little less than comfortable but Yunho doesn’t complain. Junsu is just happy that there’s no smoke spewing out of his exhaust when he looks in the rear view mirror. He thinks about his brother waiting for him and unconsciously speeds up, the sooner he gets home the better- the sooner he can relax a little. He looks over at his passenger- Yunho looks strangely small and delicate in the seat, despite the broad, tall physique Junsu knows the man possesses. With great difficulty, Junsu turns his concentration back to the long stretch of road, the fields whipping past the windows in a blur of yellow, the sky a surreal blue starched with few clouds. He has hours to decide what to do with Yunho.

Junsu swings the car up a steep driveway; gravel crunching under the tyres as he parks. The front door swings open and Junsu knows Junho will be scolding him for bringing Yunho home any second. He drags the toe of his worn sneakers in the gravel, digging in till he sees the dirt below. He had tried to think of adequate ways to dispose of Yunho but no solution had come to mind. Junsu had stopped at a gas station two towns over, took an abnormally large amount of time in the store, half hoping Yunho would attempt to make an escape but the man had remained motionless and impassive, waiting in the passenger seat. He had resigned himself to being the blind man’s guardian then, snatching up a couple of stale sandwiches and hopping back into the car.

Yunho has always thought it strange how people often think that when one sense is weakened the others sharpen. Yunho doesn’t have exceptional hearing, if anything his condition allows him to get carried away in his thoughts too often, leaving him completely oblivious to everything around him. He doesn’t need to have exceptional hearing however, as the walls are incredibly thin as the brothers hiss at each other in the pretence of whispering. Yunho waits on the porch, he runs his hand over the peeling banister, flinching when a splinter pierces his palm and unable to shut out the voices coming from the house.

‘You should have dropped him off at a bus stop or something!’ Junho scolds, barely able to contain himself.

‘It would have given us away completely,’ Junsu hisses, ‘I’m not stupid, I thought of that but it defeats the purpose of travelling so far to pull it off.’

‘Then you should have driven to a town further out,’ Junho rationalises, ‘This isn’t good, Junsu.’

‘I could barely afford the gas for this trip,’ There’s a light thud Yunho presumes to be a shove to the chest, ‘Just shut up, I know it’s not ideal - we needed the money- we need the money, your appointment is on Tuesday.’

The screen door clatters in its frame and there are heavy footsteps on the worn floorboards of the porch. Junsu grasps at Yunho’s elbow and leads him inside where he sinks into a soft couch. The material feels smooth but threadbare under his hands. The splinter in his palm catches on the cloth and Yunho winces loudly.

A weight drops into the sofa beside him, pulling his arm into their lap, ‘You hurt your hand?’ Junho’s deep voice softens.

Large hands unfurl Yunho’s fingers, inspecting his palm, ‘You’ve gotta watch out for things like this around here. Everything tries to fall apart- I hope you’ve had your tetanus shots. Junsu, get tweezers and disinfectant.’

Junho continues to run fingers over Yunho’s knuckles, his own hands much larger than both Yunho and Junsu’s. Yunho notices they feel softer than Junsu’s, as if they’re no longer kept busy. There’s the shuffling sound of Junsu moving through the old house and back into the room, a sharp nip and Junho lets out a small cry of triumph. The cool dribble of disinfectant rolls over his palm.

‘Thank you,’ Yunho says quietly.

‘No problem,’ Junho pats him on the back and Yunho gets the feeling he’s in the company of two very affectionate brothers. ‘It’s Yunho, right? I bet you have family you want to get back to- we’ll get you home soon.’

‘There’s no one,’ Yunho thinks of his empty house, everything placed precisely so and barely withholds a frown.

‘Oh,’ Junho pauses thoughtfully, ‘Then we’ll get you where you want to be as soon as my idiot brother devises another half-assed plan for trouble.’

‘Yah!’ Junsu squeaks and the couch cushions sink lower, Yunho listening to the unmistakable squeals and tumbles of fighting beside him.

He smiles.

Yunho has always had immense difficulty in falling asleep. His shrink had theorised it had something to do with being unable to differentiate the transition of day to night. The shrink had said that technically Yunho was permanently conditioned for sleep, rendering his body clock ineffective. Yunho’s not too sure about that, he’s spent a whole life in darkness after all and even though his mind tires he cannot seem to sleep. In the dark there’s always a plethora of things that bump in the night, instantly menacing and distracting. They capture the imagination and spark fear in Yunho’s heart.
The house creaks and whistles slightly with wind, leaves and long grass rustling outside. The screen door clacks in its wooden frame and there’s a light tinkle from a weathervane on the porch. Junho had offered to share his bed and Junsu had slipped from his own small bed and crawled in beside Yunho an hour later, curling around his back. Wedged between the two brother’s chests, Yunho feels oddly safe. Junsu fits against his curve, an arm tossed casually over his stomach and already deeply asleep whilst Junho seems to swamp the both of them with his sheer size. The older twin tangles a leg with Yunho’s, uncaring of personal space as Yunho expels air against the man’s chest, soothed by the heat radiating between the brothers, encasing him in a warm cocoon. Unknowingly, Yunho drifts easily into slumber for the first time in years.

Junho hacks and coughs in the morning. He continues to do so until Yunho hears the squelching, wet sound of vomiting, not even vaguely muffled by the bathroom door. The toilet flushes and Junho returns to the bedroom, feet heavy over the worn wooden floors. Yunho sits at the edge of the bed and waits. Junsu had disappeared sometime before he had woken up and he hazards a guess the man is out working.

Junho kneels on the floor at Yunho’s feet and takes his hand in his own. The man seems to hesitate for a moment before he lifts Yunho’s hand and lays it on his shoulder. Yunho can feel the broad muscle under his palm, warm and slightly clammy beneath the thin tshirt, ‘Do you want to…?’ Junho asks and Yunho ponders for a good moment what the man is insinuating before he grasps Junho’s intention. Yunho’s not sure why people like to cater to every cliché they can think of concerning people with disabilities, but he knows Junho means no harm so he lets his hands skim the wide shoulders. He’s already garnered a general idea of the man’s large physique, but trails fingertips back up biceps, fluttering his way to Junho’s neck and jaw. Yunho has no imagination for faces; they provide him with little comfort. He likes the feel of soft hair but few people give him solace solely from knowing the shape of their features. Yunho becomes distracted as he remembers his mother’s fine and tired face. A mouth exhausted with the effort of forced smiles, eyes sunken and lost behind delicate cheekbones.

Junho’s face is much rounder, though a little sunken in places too. His skin has a cold pallor, drying sweat dots his forehead, beneath a soft fringe of hair. The nose is strong and his mouth plump and large like the rest of him. Yunho lets his hands fall back into his lap. There is no picture in his mind to accompany the man’s character, merely a list of attributes Yunho categorises and files away. Yunho can sense the sickness in Junho- can taste the hint of despair and smell the hint of acridity mixed with the mint toothpaste.

‘May I use your bathroom?’ Yunho asks and tries not to be annoyed when Junho wraps an arm around his back and eases him up as though he is incapable of standing on his own.

Yunho lets himself be lead to the bathroom, clatters into the glass of the shower screen and feels for the taps. The heat is always on the right and he twists on the rain as Junho hovers behind him.

‘I have a towel for you,’ He offers and Yunho can hear the uncertainty and hesitance.

Yunho thanks him, hanging it over the glass wall of the shower before adding cold to the mix. Junho is still there so Yunho says softly, ‘You can go, I’m perfectly fine,’ he offers a small smile.

‘There’s a spare toothbrush in the package on the sink and I don’t know if you-‘ Junho pauses and Yunho waits for the man to find the right words- the politest way to deal with the awkward circumstances, ‘There’s a razor too. Let me know if you need anything.’

Yunho nods, thinking of a lover long gone, cradling his head on their lap as the sharp blade gritted over his jaw meticulously. He hears the door close and removes his clothes, banging into the glass stall several times before gingerly clambering in. He washes well enough, occasionally misjudging the space but he’s used to bruises and adjusts quickly to the room. He may not do the best job shaving, but he’s sure he hasn’t missed a spot even if in some places his hand feels wet when he brushes over his chin. Yunho cleans his teeth, towel dries his hair and fumbles with Junho and Junsu’s things. He smells two different colognes and later when Junsu comes home and takes a seat next to him at the table, Yunho thinks it smells much better blended with Junsu’s warm skin and light scent of sweat than it had ever smelt in the cold, round bottle.

That night Junsu slides in beside him, body radiating heat against his back and Yunho sleeps easy.

In the morning, Junho seems reluctant to leave the bed. He lies still beside Yunho, breathing shallowly, in, out, in out. Yunho can sense the man’s quiet pain. He slips out from under the covers and feels his way to the kitchen. He rinses a mug he finds resting in the sink, unsure if it’s clean or merely drying and fills it with water, listening carefully to gauge the level. Yunho places his hand on Junho’s arm and hands him the glass of water. Goosebumps line the man’s arms and his skin feels deathly cold. He thanks Yunho for the water and Yunho hears him take a few sips before it clunks against the wooden bedside table.

‘I’m sorry,’ Junho apologises, ‘This must be very awkward and boring for you.’

Yunho doesn’t say anything. He thinks of the quiet of this house and how it’s somehow less stifling than his own. He doesn’t want to think about how surprisingly comforted he feels to be in the company of the twins. How boring his routine is. He offers Junho a small smile. The mattress shifts as Junho rolls onto his side, almost on his stomach, breathing heavily into the pillow through waves of pain. Yunho quietly rejoins the man in bed, slipping his cold feet under the covers. He rubs Junho’s back, soothing as the man stifles whimpers of pain and despair. Yunho thinks he understands all too well.

Junho perks up by the time Junsu returns home and Yunho feels a sense of relief too when the man laughs. The sound bubbling up inside Junsu’s body until it spills, infecting the room and easing muscles Yunho didn’t know he held tense. Junsu breathes life into the house, his warmth reaching the dark corners of every room and infiltrating both Yunho and Junho’s very core. Yunho takes to both brothers immediately, enjoying Junsu’s rambling and excitement, his fork clatters against crockery throughout dinner so that he can make what Yunho assumes to be wild hand gestures and slap both Yunho and Junho on the thigh jovially. Yunho barely tastes the cheap spaghetti, smiling genuinely for the first time in years as Junsu describes the antics of his work colleague.

Yunho tries to tune the brothers out when they argue the following week.

‘What are we going to do, Junsu?’ Junho hisses, ‘It’s not like we can keep him here forever!’

‘You think I don't know that?’ Junsu whispers furiously, ‘Look, it’s not like I haven’t tried, I know it’s not the best situation but what choice have we got?’

‘Junsu,’ Yunho thinks he hears Junho’s voice break, ‘There has to be something better than this.’

‘Well I’m sorry,’ Junsu says calmly, ‘But sometimes you get dealt shitty cards.’

His boots sound loudly on the wooden floors as he helps Yunho settle on the couch. He turns on a small radio, there’s little else he can offer Yunho to pass time and tells him there’s food on the top shelf of the fridge in the square container. Yunho nods and sits there listening to songs barely anyone remembers from fifty years ago. He hears the car start and splutter, the edge of despair fading a little as Junho treads heavily outside.

Eventually Yunho changes the station to a classical one. Mentally naming the sonatas he knows and trying to guess the ones that he doesn’t. He feels out a space on the floor, loses himself in mindless exercises until his lungs and muscles burn. He lies there on the floor, feeling the minutes pass as sweat dries on his skin. Yunho’s not sure what to do with himself, he has none of his books or his modified computer. His clothes aren’t even his own yet somehow he has no real desire to go back to his life- to his obligations and duties.

Yunho is showering when the brothers return. Junsu calling to him from behind the bathroom door, concerned and Yunho hates himself a little for liking it. He dries off, carefully feeling the seams and worn tags on his borrowed clothes before pulling them on and padding his way out into the kitchen, trailing a hand over the wallpaper.

‘We we’re going to have some lunch, do you want some?’ Junsu asks and Yunho can sense the man’s smile.

‘Sure,’ Yunho fumbles until his hand clasps the back of a chair, pulling it back from the table.

A plate clinks on the table in front of him and Junsu flops back into a seat. Yunho feels the rough edges of the bread, a little stale and lifts the sandwich to take a bite. It takes him a moment to realise Junho is not in the room.

‘Where’s Junho?’ Yunho asks softly, swallowing a mouthful.

Junsu’s feet shuffle under the table, ‘He’s having a lie down, he’s tired.’

Yunho nods. Junsu strikes Yunho as a once carefree man who has had too much responsibility lumped on his shoulders at too young an age. He thinks of his mother and wonders if he could be considered the same. He doubts it. Yunho knows he has always carried a darkness inside him where Junsu is warm and pure.

‘How long has Junho been sick?’ Yunho asks gently.

‘Too long,’ Junsu sounds weary, ‘But he’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ Yunho genuinely believes the man’s tired conviction.

They finish in silence, Junsu humming along to Vivaldi that crackles through the radio. Junsu hands Yunho soapy dishes to dry, one by one at Yunho’s insistence.

‘I have to go back to work,’ Junsu tells him, ‘But if you want to watch- uh…turn on the TV or something, you’re welcome too. I don’t really know,’ Yunho can hear the man scratch his head. ‘What do you normally do?’

‘I’m a teacher,’ Yunho pauses, ‘I was a teacher.’

‘Oh,’ Junsu says, ‘I’m sorry to keep you from that,’ he sounds so sincere it hurts.

‘No,’ Yunho says briskly, plucking another plate from the rack, ‘I haven’t been for some time. I lost my passion for it, it’s just hard to think of being defined as anything else.’

‘Still, it’s impressive,’ Junsu chides.

‘Why?’ Yunho shoots out, ‘Because I’m blind?’ He feels angry, though he’s not sure it’s really all for Junsu.

‘No, because you had passion for it and went after it,’ Junsu says calmly, ‘It’s more than I’ve ever done and you’ve even been to university. That makes me kind of jealous.’

Yunho feels the anger wash away as Junsu’s cool words seep into his mind.

‘Thanks,’ He mumbles, ‘But it’s really nothing to be envious of.’

The sink gurgles loudly as it drains, Junsu gathering the stacks of plates and bowls, tucking them back into cupboards.

‘Junho is completing his high school diploma,’ Junsu offers lightly as he sorts the knives from the forks, ‘We never finished and he has the brains to make something of himself at university.’ Junsu says it without bitterness and Yunho admires the man, ‘Maybe you could help him study.’

Yunho smiles gently, hoping to goad a little of Junsu’s warmth back into the man, ‘No problem.’

It’s easy enough to teach Junho the basic calculus, even without the right books for Yunho to run his hands over. It takes some patience on both sides, but Junho is smart to catch on as long as it’s not on a day too soon after his treatment. They take it slow, easing into the mornings with light chores, Junho catching an extra hour of sleep as Yunho runs a hand along the washing line, plucking pegs from the wire and folding the clothes carefully. Yunho knows he’s not independent here, but there’s a confidence that fills him as he works without the aids of alarms and modifications everyone insisted he needed.

Junho makes lunch and whilst Yunho clears the table, Junho pulls out his books and various papers. They take note (Yunho mentally) of due dates and grade percentages, prioritising the course work. Some of it challenges Yunho too; he hasn’t read the assigned book at times and has to simply rely on Junho’s own strong perceptions, merely offering suggestions on structure as Junho reads his essay aloud. They’re both noticeably restless as the hour leans closer to Junsu’s arrival: the two of them relying on Junsu’s strong spirit and affection to ease their melancholy. Yunho finds he aches to hear Junsu’s laughter.

They seem to take turns talking to Junsu at night. Yunho is honest enough with himself to admit it’s the highlight of his day. As much as he likes Junho’s gentle nature and patient temperament, both of them seem to be stuck, something bleak and grim seizing their hearts until Junsu pulls them from it. Yunho likes listening to Junsu talk, the man leaning heavily against him on the couch and whispering his burdens. Yunho knows he’s one of them, he also knows that Junho’s and his reliance on Junsu to relieve their moods is another unwanted pressure but Yunho can’t help it. Not when he’s happy just to be near the man, happy to be with both the brothers.

On bad days, Yunho hugs Junsu tightly, tells him he’s doing just fine and that he’s happy to have met Junsu- so very happy. On the worst days, Yunho rubs Junho’s back as the man hacks, coughs and vomits violently. He wipes at Junho’s mouth with a wet cloth, feeds the man a little water and helps him back to his bed where he works soothing cream into Junho’s chest in the hopes of quelling the urge to cough and wheeze before tucking in the covers. He also promises not to tell Junsu.

Most days, things are never irreparable and Yunho sleeps peacefully between the brothers every night.

Junsu takes Yunho on expeditions into different towns. They sit side by side on bus after bus, Yunho waiting patiently, sometimes chatting, mostly listening. They’re scoping out Junsu’s next hit but Yunho doesn’t know that. Yunho doesn’t have his cane, so he sticks to Junsu like glue most of the journeys, occasionally wandering on his own through rails of clothing as Junsu talks to shop keepers or makes purchases. He can hear people whispering when he bumps and jolts into walls or displays but he ignores it, some stores are just too small to navigate even with perfect vision. Junsu always shuffles him out before anyone can ask too many questions

Apart from the whispers and at times loud exclamations from small children, Yunho can’t help but notice the towns are often muted. An odd quiet even in the bustle of a busy marketplace and it’s unusually unsettling, crawling up Yunho’s spine. The towns they explore seem dulled, like dying embers in a fireplace, there is little life to be found in both the buildings and the citizens. They walk like ghosts, barely leaving a trace but taking home dust on their shoes.

Junsu buys him soft, cotton t-shirts and a pair of jeans much more suited to his frame than his borrowed clothes and it sparks hope in his heart that he’s here to stay. He offers to pay, his wallet still on him from the beginning, notes lined in sequential order and plastic cards stiff in their slots but Junsu declines. They sit with their laps full of groceries every time they catch the buses home.

Sometimes Yunho wakes with a jolt, reeling from a nightmare. He curls in on himself, trying to suck in breath to his needy lungs, fearful of his surroundings until Junho unravels him. The man pulls at his wrists until he straightens, head surfacing amongst the blankets and suddenly reminded he’s not in his apartment in the city. Junsu hums, thick with sleep but concerned none the less and it anchors him back to the present, to the space and warmth between the two brothers. Yunho shifts, letting Junho’s frame swamp his from behind, hands slipping under the fabric of Junsu’s shirt, palms flat on the man’s shoulders, drawing him close. He breathes in and forgets the past.

Weeks later, Junho paces the room sluggishly. Junsu is late and both men wait in the living room, straining to hear the sound of Junsu’s car crunching over the gravel driveway. Junho eventually flops down on the couch, frustration evident and Yunho grasps his hand. Yunho has an idea of what Junsu could be doing and it instils fear in his heart. They sit in silence, desperately praying Junsu will return safely and soon so that they can stop imagining the worst.

When Junsu finally pulls up, both men have moved to the porch. Yunho wrings his hands as he hears Junho run out to meet the car. He stumbles down the front steps, almost falling as he stands on rotting wood, righting himself quickly. Junsu is quickly in front of him, leading him by the arms down the stairs and helping him balance.

‘Hey,’ Junsu says cheerfully and Yunho can hear Junho sigh from across the lawn, ‘Sorry I’m late, I brought dinner home.’

Yunho can feel Junsu’s smile against his shoulder when he hugs him, ‘Okay, let’s go inside.’

Yunho can’t bring himself to question Junsu, neither it seems can Junho and they settle for holding the small man that night, Yunho’s arms around him tightly and Junho crowding them both.

Junho and Yunho settle into a pattern whilst Junsu works. They study, complete chores and then talk for hours, brainstorming financial solutions. Sometimes Junho makes small repairs to the house whilst Yunho crunches numbers- neither of the men can bear to be dead weight to Junsu and they begin simple, low paying work stuffing envelopes. They keep it a secret from Junsu and Junho tells Yunho that he keeps most of the money in their jar for emergencies on top of the fridge. Yunho knows they’d be a lot more efficient and financially rewarded if the brothers invested in a computer and internet connection, inputting data at home and he and Junho begin plotting a budget to afford it.

The highlight is still Junsu’s return home, crowding the couch to watch the soccer, Junsu throwing himself all over both of them in his enthusiasm or drinking beer around the kitchen table after dinner. It’s the sort of family Yunho’s never had, the brothers both affectionate and good-natured. They relay Yunho with stories of their boyhood adventures and Yunho occasionally regales them with experiences of his own. It’s the first time he’s ever felt comfortable in his own skin around other people, safe and secluded in the old country house, far away from the stifling pressures and expectations of his old home.

Junsu hums the beginnings of a tune as they all take a seat on the couch. Junho spreads out long limbs over the sunken couch and Yunho leans against him as Junsu settles into the corner. There’s a scrape as the coffee table is drawn closer, the familiar click as mugs rest on the glass surface. They play chess, Yunho giving Junho instructions and Junsu giggling as he tries to cheat.

The late morning sun is warm on Yunho’s back. Music crackles from the radio, all the way into the garden from the kitchen and he hums lightly at he hangs out washing. Yunho slides fingers along the corded wire, stopping at pegs to fold sheets over the line. There’s a stillness to the day; few sounds bar the radio, himself and the faint shuffle of Junho within the house. Yunho turns towards the sun, holding out his cold, dampened hands to thaw in the sun and breathes in the clean, crisp air. Warmth seeps into his skin, easing life back into his frozen fingertips and nose, Yunho smiles, basking in the sunlight when he hears a sickening thud.

Yunho freezes, his heart thumping overtime as he listens carefully for any other sounds. Perhaps Junsu is home early or Junho’s moving boxes. He waits, not daring to move, to breath too loudly for fear of those sounds drowning out the ones he so desperately needs to hear to calm his nerves. When there are no signs of life, Yunho does panic, yelling out to Junho. There’s no response and he rushes, miscalculating steps and falling, scraping his knees and hands. He crashes into the doorframe, back inside the house, still calling Junho’s name and then Junsu’s as he makes his way through the kitchen.

He can’t hear anything over the rush of blood pounding through his head and he tries not to vomit as anxiety twists in his stomach, seeping in like poison. He’s waiting for Junho to appear, to pop out from the bathroom, for Junsu to open the front door and melt the tension from his muscles but there’s nothing but silence to accompany him. He works methodically, checking the living room next, running a hand over the couches and pacing a circle around the coffee table.

He walks the length of the hallway, into his and Junho’s bedroom, rushing over to smooth hands over the bed covers when he falls, tripping over the lump near the door. Yunho cries a little then, pushing himself up and patting hands over the broad body he knows is Junho’s. It’s warm but he knows that doesn’t mean much and he leans down, pressing an ear to the man’s chest and holding his breath to hear that precious heartbeat.

It’s there, faint but steady and Yunho breathes out before he begins to shake the man, softly and then roughly as he gets no response. He tries to quell his anguish as he searches Junho’s body, looking for injuries but there are none to be felt under his own bloody palms. Yunho bites his lip hard, focusing on his options. He needs to call an ambulance, so he crawls back over Junho’s body and back into the kitchen. The buttons seem to slide beneath his fingers and Yunho punches in the ones he knows to be for emergencies, he pauses for a moment, listening to dial tone. The phone drops down to the floor as Yunho lets out a strangled cry of exasperation. He doesn’t know where he is, what address he’s been living at or even if he’s in the same state anymore. Yunho doesn’t know if Junsu has a cell phone or where he works, he’s not sure where the nearest hospital is but he’s sure it’s quite far- there’s nothing he can say or do to help himself.

Tears become hysterical as he panics, fear twisting through his gut and he barely manages to crawl to the bathroom before he heaves onto the floor. He wipes his face on a towel before returning to Junho, trying once more to rouse the man. Junho’s breathing is shallow and Yunho sends out desperate prayers to gods he doesn’t believe in. He drags Junho into the living room, arms aching with the exertion and fat tears falling from his face. He falls repeatedly, unbalanced but he makes it there, every minute that scrapes by he’s pleading for the man to wake up. He checks Junho’s heartbeat continually, obsessively, before finally stumbling his way to the front door, pulling the man’s unconscious body onto the porch.

He’s not sure how isolated they are. He’s never heard any neighbours or even the usual rumble of trains that he hears back home, in fact there’s not much traffic at all. The nearest bus stop Junsu had to drive them to. Panic seizes Yunho’s heart, making him draw breath in ragged pants. He falls over tufts of grass and shrubs in the previously unexplored landscape. Yunho always gets back up, wiping the wet mess of his face before pushing forward again and again when he finds the mailbox, rough and paint peeling just like the porch. He clings to it like an anchor, trying to determine a number but there’s none and Yunho thinks it must be painted on.

He’s hesitant to leave; unsure he can find the way back when he hears the faintest noise in the distance. He pulls tightly on his hair, gritting his teeth and trying to calm himself, breathing raggedly. Reluctantly he lets go of the post, making his way forwards and then turning towards the noise. He walks with ginger steps, anticipating bumps in the path but none come beside small rocks. Yunho convinces himself he’s nearing the sound, or rather it’s getting closer and he dares to hope it’s a car, that it’s Junsu.

It grows, robust and smooth with speed until Yunho’s certain it’s an engine and he waves his arms wildly as it approaches. There’s a squeal of tyres trying to grip loose dirt and Yunho winces, bracing for an impact that never comes. It’s not Junsu, Yunho can tell immediately but it is help and he sends out a silent thanks to an unknown deity. When the car door opens, Yunho speaks quickly, frantically and he’s grateful how quickly the driver seems to grasp his desperation. The man helps him carry Junho to the car and they lay him in the backseat where Yunho climbs in beside him. There’s still a sense of panic around them as the driver asks him questions all the way to the hospital, filling the good part of an hour with endless queries Yunho doesn’t have an answer to.

He cries with exhaustion as the nurses pull Junho from the car and he lets a nurse lead him into a chair. She’s kind but firm, bending him over until his head is between his knees and he sucks in air like a drowning man. When he’s steady, she wipes his face clean, hands him a flimsy plastic cup of water and begins asking him the same questions. He doesn’t know their address, any contact numbers for family and he’s not sure if Junho’s allergic to anything or how long he’s been sick for. He tells them the brother’s names and hopes they have him on file. Yunho sobs but the nurse rubs circles on his back and tells him Junho is going to be fine.

Yunho waits in a hard plastic chair outside the room for hours, shoulders stiff and eyes swollen and sore. The nurses pity him and ask him if he wants anything every now and then but he’s too numb and worn to eat. He lets them disinfect the scrapes on his hands and knees and becomes stiff with gauze, a dull throb in the heel of his palms at the consistent pressure of the bandages on his skin. He’s lost in his thoughts when boots thud towards him. Yunho knows instinctually that it’s Junsu.

A hand touches his shoulder and Yunho barely raises his head, ashamed of his incompetence, afraid of disappointing Junsu.

‘Yunho,’ Junsu says softly, repeating himself when Yunho doesn’t respond, ‘Yunho, are you okay?’

Junsu doesn’t sound angry or disappointed; Yunho thinks he sounds more like Junho than ever before, a delicate sadness washed through his every fibre. Yunho bites his lip, there’s nothing he can say except for apologies and Junsu doesn’t seem like he’d want to hear them. He pats Yunho on the shoulder before disappearing into the room, talking quietly with the doctor.

Junsu takes his bandaged hand carefully into his own when he returns, pulling Yunho up from the chair. His hand is small and gentle and it makes Yunho feel clumsy but a little warmer.

‘He’s okay, he’s on a drip and stuff but there’s nothing urgently wrong,’ Junsu says, thumb running over Yunho’s knuckles. ‘He’s still sick,’ Yunho hears the crack in Junsu’s voice and squeezes the fingers in his grasp, ‘After all this time, he’s still sick.’

It’s a long drive home, longer than the journey there it seems but they’re both too worn and frayed to say much else. Yunho can tell that Junsu is ashen, skin cold not just from the crisp air. They sit in silence on the couch, echo hollows of themselves and whilst it’s not a feeling new to Yunho, it’s not something he can bear in Junsu. Eventually Junsu stands and Yunho hears a cupboard opening. A glass is pushed into his hand and he hears the twist of metal on glass. He drinks what he’s poured, allowing the cool liquid to burn down his throat, twisting warmth to lie in his belly along with the turning snakes of anxiety.

Junsu pushes the hair from his face and there’s a hiss as he downs his own drink, ‘I’m sorry you were brought into this mess, Yunho.’

Yunho’s numbed tongue finally functions, ‘Don’t be,’ He says simply.

Another gulp and, ‘If you hadn’t been here,’ Junsu pauses and the glass clinks against the bottle, ‘I don’t know what would have happened.’ He pours Yunho more, ‘So I’m glad you’re here, even if I pulled you away from your life. I’m glad you’re with us, with me,’ Junsu’s voice breaks and Yunho can tell he’s crying.

He puts down his emptied glass, hands reaching out to cup Junsu’s face, brushing away tears as he moves closer, ‘I want to be here.’ He smiles softly, ‘with both of you,’ Yunho breathes in before leaving a gentle kiss on the corner of Junsu’s mouth, ‘With you.’

Junsu kisses him delicately, a gentleness Yunho tends to dislike but he knows Junsu’s doing it for the right reasons and he eases into it with a tenderness of his own. They both feel fragile with emotions too intangible and only half formed so they say nothing more as they undress each other. Legs tangle as they lay down face-to-face, exploring skin with their hands and pushing into an impossibly close embrace. Their kiss is languid and deep, it’s not searing with passion but it is laced with love and consolation and that’s enough to overwhelm Yunho. Yunho’s been lost for such a long time he’s happy when Junsu takes the lead.

Junsu maps his body with tongue and fingertips and he shivers, naked in the cool night air. He gives back as much as he can, suckling with his mouth in a way designed to extract pleasure, running hands over the taut muscles of Junsu’s back. He wants to pull all the tension from the other man until he’s left with only the gratifying kind and they move together with fluidity on the bed. There are still traces of sadness that cloy in the air around them but it’s easy to push aside when there’s so much warm, smooth skin pressing together. The steady ebb of pleasure as they explore each other’s in and outs.

Junsu’s arm curls around his waist, hand on his stomach before curling around his length and Yunho groans as he’s filled. The satisfying stretch has Yunho’s fraying nerves completely shot and he keens, loving every movement Junsu makes inside him. Junsu mumbles curses into his shoulder, hand on Yunho’s hip as he pulls out and thrusts back in. His voice is husky and uncontainable as every shift into Yunho’s tight warmth has him moaning, whispering words of praise and gratitude against unblemished skin.

Yunho’s skin burns under his palms as Junsu rolls the man onto his back, pausing to lick a path from the man’s jaw down to his crotch. He runs the flat of his tongue over the raised brown disc, letting teeth graze over the pectoral before dipping into the man’s belly button. It elicits a heady moan and Yunho writhes on the sheets, panting harshly when Junsu takes him into his mouth. Slick fingers fill him as Junsu works his lips over his length, hot and insufferably pleasurable. Yunho arches, pushing down on the man’s hand and smiling in victory when the digits sink deeper. He can feel himself pulse and lets out a warning before he’s losing himself in Junsu’s mouth, hips rocking as his orgasm mounts and erupts. Junsu swallows around him, pulling back before he’s completely done and wet warmth pumps over his belly. Hands pull his legs further apart as Junsu shimmies up the bed, pushing back in to Yunho’s clenching heat.

Junsu rains kisses over Yunho’s collarbones and he picks up a steady rhythm, the bed creaking with protest beneath them. Sweat drips from Junsu onto Yunho’s body but he can barely feel it with the way his skin feels electrified, goose bumps over his flushed skin. Every thrust is deep and sure, Junsu holding his hands as he’s pressed down into the sheets. Yunho moans when he feels Junsu burst inside him, hot and thick, slickening the man’s final movements. They lay in a sweaty tangle, blankets drawn around them and kissing indulgently until they fall asleep, somehow shaken from the harsh reality of before, pretending not to notice the absence of Junho’s large form beside them.

A/N: Empress forced me to write this, most of which was written in ill health and thinking hateful thoughts about her for requesting long, serious suho. That is all.