This Life of Mine
Author: morninglory17
Title: This Life of Mine
Pairing: Junsu/Ri In
Genre: angst
Length: 2,218 words
Rating: R for language and sex
A/N: This is one of those pieces that started as one thing and ended as something else, so the plot seems very confused and there’s random smut that shouldn’t be there. On top of all that, you’ll hate the ending. I don’t like it, but I’m a comment whore, so I’m posting it anyway. It makes me feel like I accomplished something today. OH so this is AU because Junsu is a solo singer and Ri isn’t a singer at all.
This Life of Mine
Junsu and I walked into the banquet together, but he was gone from my side the instant he saw a familiar face. I was that type of wife who served as evidence that my husband was a red-blooded, heterosexual male who could one day be a family man (if he felt like it) but in the mean time, could get hot sex whenever he wanted; he was that godly.
I grabbed a glass of champagne and mingled, but I wasn’t talkative, and I wasn’t in a good mood.
Junsu was back from Japan, and I had not even seen his face as he walked in the door before he was commanding me to get dressed, get pretty, we’re going out.
Is this typical behavior for us, you ask?
We’ve been married for seven years. We didn’t even make it through our honeymoon happily. I hate his guts and he probably hates me back.
On this particular night, I take things as they come, but the crowning moment was when a scantily clad girl asked Junsu who I was and he actually said, “Oh, that’s just my wife.”
Fuck you too, you bastard.
We got home that night after a silent drive in his expensive car. He would never open my door for me, so I make sure to get out of the car before he does and open the front door myself before he can let it close in my face.
I head straight upstairs to pull my dress off and take a shower. I can still feel people’s gazes on me and I want to wash them off.
Junsu strolls into the bathroom right behind me and he stops short when he sees me in my slip, turning on the water.
“I need the shower,” he says.
“I’m taking a shower,” I say, even though it’s completely obvious.
“Ri- I just got home, I haven’t had a shower since yesterday morning, and I’ve been on three planes in the last 48 hours. Can I please take a fucking shower.”
“Sure.”
He gives me the strangest look at my immediate compliance, and I walk out of the bathroom without another word.
Sure you can have the shower. You can also sleep on the couch.
I lock the bedroom door.
The next few days pass painfully. I hate when he’s home. I try to avoid him and I tiptoe around my own house. This is hardly his house-he’s home less than half the year.
I remember a few years back he tried to sell my house; said it wasn’t glamorous enough, even though it had more square footage than three normal houses put together and it was basically a historical landmark in Seoul. I fought him tooth and nail, every step of the way. I tried to bargain with him for days when he tried to put paperwork through with a real estate company before I finally lost my cool.
“This is my house, Junsu! I don’t give a shit where you live, but you can’t sell what belongs to me! Let me have one goddamn thing of my own!” I had screamed. He brought out the very worst in me.
He finally gave up and bought a house on the coast, which is where he stayed most of the time he wasn’t here. He was on business often enough that no one asked why we lived apart, and he was famous enough that he could make excuses even if they did ask. I had long ago stopped wondering if he slept around. He had needs and he could have anyone he wanted, so I suspected he had a lot of visitors at the house on the coast. As for us, I would guess it’s been around two years since we’ve slept together.
How did this happen to us, you ask?
I came to my senses, that’s how it happened. I was in love and he wasn’t. He never loved me. He used me, and his punishment was marriage. I can’t say that I was punished worse than him-considering we can never divorce, we’re both stuck in a place we hate, but he’s a society darling-he’s got the voice of a god, and he uses it, and if he fools around he’ll be forgiven. That’s something I can never do.
We managed not to have any altercations for all of 18 hours. Junsu came downstairs in the middle of the day and walked up to me while I was reading a book.
“Aren’t you going to do the laundry?” he asked.
I looked up slowly.
“There’re dirty clothes all over the bedroom, can’t you wash them once in a blue moon? You sit here all day doing nothing and you can’t find time to throw some damn cloth in the washer?”
“I do my laundry,” I said calmly.
“Jang Ri, I don’t have time for this. I need some clean shirts, and I have to go out tonight. I’ll be gone in three days and you can go back to whatever it is you do.” He walked off.
I was furious.
I’ll do your laundry, honey. No problem.
I wash his white shirts and red shirts together.
Why do I hate him so much, you ask?
I was young, younger than him, impressionable, dependent. He swept me off my feet, and I thought he had a pure love for me. He was charming and handsome and funny. He sang for me and shared his dreams and his eyes sparkled and I adored him. He stole my virginity on a blanket under the stars and I thought it was all romance and happy endings.
When my father found out, he demanded that Junsu marry me immediately.
Junsu refused.
I was so stupid that I still loved him; he told me that he just wasn’t ready, that we were too young, and I thought he would come for me one day on his own. But my father pushed the issue, and Junsu finally came outright and told my father in no uncertain words that he didn’t want me. He didn’t love me and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with me.
The wedding was three weeks later. Junsu had avoided my every call, and as I stood with him on what should have been the happiest day of our lives, he didn’t even look me in the eye.
Maybe it was cruel that he was forced to marry just as his career was taking off. Maybe I tied him down and ruined his freedom.
But did he think I wanted to be with a man who hated me?
I returned late that night and Junsu was still up, downing a glass of alcohol. His shirt was brand new-he’d obviously gone out earlier to buy one after the laundry disaster, even though there were probably tens of shirts he could have worn still hanging in his closet.
He glanced up at me and I tried to move silently past him to the stairs.
“Ri.”
I swallowed and stopped. He swirled the liquid in his glass.
“Why are you like this?” he asked.
I’d considered this myself on occasion. Why couldn’t I let him live in peace?
I turned slowly to look at him.
“Why is this so miserable?” he asked. He didn’t look at me, keeping his eyes on his drink. “Why are you so determined to make me hate myself?”
I doubted that he hated himself. I didn’t doubt that he hated me.
“Because you can have anything you want, Junsu. And I don’t want to let you forget that you ruined my life too.”
His jaw dropped. He hadn’t been expecting that. I hadn’t meant to say it.
“Ri…”
You’re a bitch? I hate you? I want to pretend we never met?
“You used to want to make me happy.”
Yeah, ages ago, years ago, before we were married, perhaps! When did you ever want to make me happy?
“You didn’t use to be mean-hearted.”
“Yeah, well I didn’t used to be married to you,” I said.
I went upstairs.
It was getting later but Junsu wasn’t coming to bed. I changed into some pajamas and sat on the bed, staring forlornly into space.
I hated the person I was. What was the point in living like this? It wasn’t making me happy, and it was making him downright unhappy. It’s not like I was accomplishing something by being such a heartless bitch. He never came home because I made his life hell, but I wasn’t happy being alone either. It wasn’t my goal to convince him to stay away.
I didn’t want to live like this anymore, and I think I’d felt that way for a long time, but I didn’t know what to do about it. What could I possibly say? If I even attempted an apology, he would shove it back in my face and remind me that he’d never wanted me.
As I sat thinking about it, I realized that he was going to be leaving soon, and I would be alone for weeks or months again. I was becoming aware that I was not satisfied with just going to sleep tonight. We had a painful and pointless past, but he was my husband and it was rare for him to be home. I had a right to being with him, no matter how he felt about me.
I got up off the bed and went to the door, opening it slowly.
Junsu was sitting in his big armchair just like I’d guessed he would be, a lamp switched on beside him and a book on his legs.
He glanced up as I walked over, and the lack of disdain on his face encouraged me (although perhaps I didn’t give him enough time to conjure up a nasty expression).
He was probably surprised when I climbed onto his lap, sitting right on top of his reading material while I leaned down to give him a blistering kiss.
He reciprocated instantly, and the moment stretched--- and stretched---
“Ri,” he broke away. “What are you doing?”
I ignored him, dragging his mouth to mine again, my fingers swirling in his hair and caressing the back of his neck.
“Junsu,” I gasped. “Please pretend you don’t hate me for one night. I’m sorry about earlier. Just, please-.”
“I don’t ha--,” he choked before I captured his lips again.
My bottom was rubbing over him and he was getting uncomfortable sitting beneath me. His hands were on my hips trying to hold me still but I don’t think he wanted me to stop, and he certainly wasn’t pulling away from my lips.
Suddenly I was in the air; he picked me up off of him, scooted out of the chair, and carried me to the stairs.
The feeling of falling onto the bed beneath him felt unreal.
His lips were at my neck and I was holding him close, barely giving him enough freedom to move, but somehow we rolled and pulled and tugged until our clothes were mostly discarded. He was running his hands through my long hair and I almost felt my eyes rolling back in my head-it had been so, so long, and suddenly I remembered the very first time we slept together, the time that caused all of this misery and regret.
“Ri. In. You. Are. So beautiful,” he gasped. He sounded close to tears, and I realized I felt the same way. What did this mean?
He leaned down to kiss me as he prepared to push himself between my legs, but I turned my head to the side. I knew that having lip contact made sex better for him; it was like double sensory deluge, but I hated it. I’d never told him that. It made me feel trapped when I wanted to be free.
Junsu entered me gently, and I gave a long moan. He tried to kiss me again.
“No,” I murmured. I hugged his neck, holding his face over my shoulder.
“Ok, ok,” he said softly. He moved slowly, achingly slow. His hands were low on my hips.
I threw my head back and just felt him inside me. My insides twitched and I couldn’t stop moaning. I whispered his name.
He kissed my throat instead.
** ** ** **
Junsu was lying on his back, his head tilted a little to one side-towards me-while I was on my stomach beside him. I had my arm tucked around his bicep, hugging him closer as we slept.
I was woken when I felt Junsu slipping away from me, extracting his arm from my grip.
“Junsu…” I said sleepily. I threw my arm across his chest pathetically.
He stilled, and after a moment relaxed back onto his pillow. One hand brushed over my hair.
I settled my cheek on his chest.
“What happened to us?” I asked quietly, still half-asleep. My voice was a mix of tears and resignation, admitting to my part in our disaster of a marriage and wondering where we were going next.
I was expecting him to say anything other than what he said next.
“Nothing we can’t fix.”