[fic] the demon i cling to (part two)

[tsuyonshi]

In May, Yoochun played Gymnopédie no.1 at the end of Jaejoong’s lesson. The other listened silently, and with a closed expression on his face. As the last note rung out, he stood up, grabbed his light jacket, and left. On the Friday that followed, it was Eun Ae’s mother who picked her up, and she didn’t speak a word of her husband. Yoochun felt he’d made a mistake, and wasn’t even expecting Jaejoong to show up on Saturday, but show up he did.

At two, he knocked on his door. Yoochun had been doing the dishes, water up to his wrists and fingers wrinkly, when he heard, quietly swearing as he dried them off. That moment was like a replay of their first meeting; caught unaware, he swung the door open, and was almost thrown off his feet when he saw the man who was standing before him.

In all honesty, Jaejoong didn’t look that amazing. Cardigan, t-shirt, designer jeans, boots that betrayed a secret love for fashion; the outfit of a businessman on weekends, falling into something more comfortable but still clean-cut for casual wear. But Yoochun still felt like a hippie next to him, with jeans so tattered that they showed more skin than material at the front, bare feet and a band t-shirt that was so old it had gone from black to dark brown. He was still blown away just from seeing his face. It had well gone past puppy love, now.

“Jaejoong-sshi,” he started to say, surprise apparent in his tone. He’d already stopped hoping that he would come, and was about to stammer out an apology even though he wasn’t sure what there was to apologize for when Jaejoong cut him off.

“No. Just Jaejoong.”

His voice was low, almost a whisper; as if he wanted to keep it a secret, as if he was afraid someone would hear and judge him (which, Yoochun had learned after a while, he was most of the time). Yoochun briefly saw a few bills in his hand for a moment before they were slipped in his pocket, and Jaejoong pushed him inside the apartment, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Why can’t you just get out of my head?” he demanded, anger flashing in his eyes for a moment before he closed them, long enough so that it wasn’t a blink but not so that Yoochun could start talking again. When their eyes met, Jaejoong pushed at his shoulders so that his back was pressed against the nearest wall, and kissed him, head tilted, eyes shut tight, fingers clenching the old material of Yoochun’s shirt.

Yoochun’s eyes stayed open with surprise, his heart leaping in his throat the second Jaejoong’s soft lips touched his. This is wrong, this is wrong, he kept chanting in his mind, telling himself to push the man who was quite possibly the love of his life away to ask what the hell was going on, this is wrong, this is so wrong, this feels so right. His willingness not to destroy a perfect family melted like snow under the sun and he gave in, eyes falling shut as he let Jaejoong’s tongue coax his mouth open. All he became aware of was the wet slide of their tongues, skin burning everywhere Jaejoong was touching even through layers of clothing.

Soon, those layers would be coming off like that of Yoochun’s carefully planned prudence, Jaejoong crashing through the barriers he’d forced himself to put between the two of them to avoid disaster. So much for wanting to lock his feelings away somewhere he couldn’t reach, so that he wouldn’t make a mistake.

But this-this was Jaejoong’s decision, he realized, when they broke away and Yoochun met those eyes, darker than charcoal, illuminated with the desire to feel alive again. That didn’t keep his heart from sinking when he watched Jaejoong turn away from him, only to realize his fingers had a firm grip on his wrist and were tugging, begging him to follow as he hesitantly made his way inside the apartment, taking in the way his living space was constructed, looking for a bedroom. Yoochun was barely even aware of the steps they were taking in reality, his heart pounding furiously against his ribcage like a bird trying to find its way out, couldn’t even direct him properly. Jaejoong didn’t have a hard time finding his bedroom, though. He knew he had at the feeling of stray sheets of paper crunching under their feet.

“What are those?” he asked curiously, tearing the both of them away from the foggy states of their minds. He bent down and picked up unfinished song number thirty-two.

It took a few moments for Yoochun to remember how vocal chords were supposed to function. “It’s. They’re-songs. Mine. I compose.”

Jaejoong studied the song structure, and after a moment, looked up at him with wide eyes. He’d recognized his sound without even hearing it. “You’re-”

“MYC. The one who writes Xiah Junsu’s ballads. That’s me,” he said softly, turning around and bending ever so slightly as he lifted the bottom of his shirt to reveal black letters inked into his skin. A shiver ran up his spine from the very second the tips of Jaejoong’s fingers grazed his tattoo before grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

Jaejoong’s lips found the junction of his neck and shoulder as he wrapped strong arms around his torso and pressed his back to his own chest, fingers splayed over his sternum and stomach. Yoochun couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh as he bit and sucked at that sensitive spot, and felt Jaejoong’s lips curl into a smile against his skin as his tongue darted out to brush against the abused skin, soft and soothing.

“Jaejoong, please,” he murmured, mind once again too wrapped up in the heat coiling inside his belly to even begin to think of finishing his request.

Jaejoong’s voice was low, breathy, and amused. “Please what?”

“Don’t tease.”

His only answer was a hum and Jaejoong’s hands turning him around by the shoulders, fingers moving up to his cheekbones before he pulled him in for another kiss, this one messier and ten times as desperate. Yoochun fumbled with the buttons of his cardigan but Jaejoong’s patience wore thin quickly enough, pulling both it and his t-shirt off in a careless gesture. The rest of their clothes came off with the same urgent ease, the two of them falling sideways across Yoochun’s mattress, which still assumed its new position on the floor beside the bed frame.

Having successfully trapped Yoochun under him, Jaejoong drew back for a moment just to stare at him, eyes still as deep and dark as his tongue darted out to lick his lips, which were red from kissing.

“What’s wrong?” Yoochun asked, an unsure tone matching the blush that was creeping up his cheeks.

Jaejoong smiled. “Nothing. I’ve just been meaning to look at you like this for months.”

Yoochun’s heart felt like it was about to burst when he heard those words, but Jaejoong’s body covered his again and feelings became secondary to the way his hips snapped up to meet Jaejoong’s, pleasure coursing through his body like electric shocks. Jaejoong tore quiet moans from his throat as he kissed a line of fire down his throat, down his chest, over his stomach, pads of his fingers feeling muscles jump under his unapologetic touch.

His whole body shook as those lips wrapped around his cock, tongue flat against the head as Jaejoong fought against the ghost of another smile. He moved slowly, discovering what kind of touches made his voice grow raw as his muscles tensed under pleasure. Blunt nails dragged down Yoochun’s thigh gently, causing him to shudder again just as Jaejoong pulled away with one last practiced swipe of his tongue, smile on his lips again.

“Can’t let you come just yet, not like this,” he said in a teasing voice that had Yoochun move up against him. He slapped his fingers away when they reached for his erection, instead moving them up to run against his torso. Yoochun groaned when he brushed a thumbnail against his perineum, and pushed at his knee so that his foot was flat on the mattress. “Can I?”

Yoochun nodded, one hand leaving Jaejoong’s abdomen to stretch an arm over his head, blindly searching for the bottle of lubricant that he knew was somewhere around the mattress. His smile was triumphant when he pushed it into Jaejoong’s hand, who took it with a kiss.

“Do you always have lube handy or were you just waiting for me?”

“Is this really the time to have a conversation?”

“Good point,” Jaejoong laughed, but it was a little tied down, too strained by pleasure to really be open and free. To Yoochun, though, it was still as beautiful. “Have you done this before?”

“Yeah, but it’s been a while since I last bottomed.”

All he was given was a smirk, a kiss, and Jaejoong’s slick fingers pressing against his entrance. The first one slid inside with surprising ease, his eyes falling shut and missing another smirk, this time with a gaze clouded by lust. Yoochun easily fell into the needy rhythm of rocking against the digit, and opened his eyes just in time to see Jaejoong bite his lip as if trying to restrain himself from letting any kind of preparation go down the drain just to feel Yoochun quicker, smacking the inside of his thigh with a shaking hand to reprimand him.

As he pushed the second finger inside, it was Jaejoong’s turn to close his eyes, committing the image of Yoochun already writhing under his touch to memory. There was a part of him that made him want to make it hurt, make Yoochun his, and another that wanted to draw everything out of him with the most gentle touches until he was trembling, begging, loving with all his heart.

Nails dug into the flesh of his arm, demanding. “Jaejoong, please-this is torture. It’s enough, I don’t care,” Yoochun murmured, already out of breath, startling Jaejoong of his thoughts by expressing them vocally, as if he read his mind.

It was Jaejoong’s time to moan as he pulled his fingers out of him and slathered his cock with lube, tensing under Yoochun’s heated stare. He wiped his hand off on Yoochun’s boxers discarded beside the mattress and it only earned him a pull at his biceps, urgent and needy. Their next kiss reflected the gesture, Jaejoong hooking Yoochun’s leg around his waist as he lined up his cock with his waiting entrance and breaking the kiss to look into his eyes. Their voices melted together in the same cry as he pushed inside, Yoochun’s toes curling at the mix of pain and pleasure from being stretched, fingers gripping Jaejoong’s shoulders tight as he urged him on.

From the first thrust onwards, pleas began spilling from his lips, each less coherent than the first and more breathless, pleasure growing inside him with a force that he’d never felt before. Jaejoong pressed their foreheads together as he increased his pace, pounding inside him like he was desperate to and angling his hips in a way that had Yoochun almost screaming his name.

He moved his hand between their bodies and gripped Yoochun’s erection tight, moving his hand in time with his thrusts with expert flicks of his wrist. His other hand let go of his leg to move to his chin so that he would look at him, wanting to see every shift in his expression as he came closer to the edge with every thrust. Yoochun’s whole body shook as he spilled onto Jaejoong’s hand, clenching around him unbelievably tight and he followed soon enough, thrusts slowing down as he rode out his orgasm with adoring whispers of his name.

Yoochun had barely even caught his breath when Jaejoong pulled him into a kiss that knocked the wind out of him, both of them swallowing up each other’s moans as Jaejoong slipped out. Brushing Yoochun’s hair away from his face, he stood up on tired, wobbly legs and quickly spotted a box of tissues, wiping his hand and then Yoochun’s lower body clean before throwing them away and leaving the box forgotten on the floor. There was an insecure look on his face when he looked at the other man lying boneless on his bed, moving towards it unsurely like a child who wasn’t sure whether he was about to get scolded or not.

“You okay?” Yoochun asked softly, worry etched onto his face as he reached out to grab Jaejoong’s wrist and pull him down in a sudden burst of confidence. Jaejoong seemed to relax and curled up against him in a way that oddly reminded him of a cat.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just that everything just sank in and I thought you were about to tell me I was a dirty hypocrite, or something.”

Yoochun moved his head to look at him, frowning with the same concerned expression. “I could never tell you that. I could never think it. Not me.”

“Thank you,” Jaejoong said voice barely above a whisper.

Silence stretched between them. There was nothing more Yoochun could do to make Jaejoong’s guilt stop raging inside him, and all he had to say were the words that had been haunting him for months, but it wasn’t the time for Jaejoong to know them, and he knew that. He wasn’t sure where Jaejoong stood, or what explained his actions because everything he’d told him up until now was still a riddle, but if there was one thing it was sure of, it was that I love you weren’t his words to say, not now.

Every Saturday, Jaejoong still came to his lessons, but now, they were longer. When Yoochun answered the door, he’d slip money into his pocket, close the door, and kiss him. Then, they’d have sex and shower before the proper lesson. Sometimes, they wouldn’t make it past a few notions and have sex again in the chair close to the piano; other times, the only touches they spared during the lesson was the soft press of Yoochun’s hand against Jaejoong’s back when he needed to straighten up, or his fingertips brushing across his nape just because.

After a while, though, Yoochun became sick of the way Jaejoong slipped him money right before they slept together. He had what he wanted, partly, but it made him feel like a cheap, dirty whore; there were days when Jaejoong, like a petulant child, didn’t want to play piano, but he still showed up, still gave him money, and they only had sex.

“Wait, no, stop, I can’t go on like this,” he said softly, pushing Jaejoong away from where he was kissing at his neck. The look Jaejoong gave him was devastated, like his misunderstanding of Yoochun’s words was causing his whole world to crumble at his feet. “No, no, I’m not saying I want to end it, I just-the way we’re doing this, it isn’t right. I can’t stand that you pay me right before we have sex. This isn’t how I want everything to happen.”

The look Jaejoong gave him was akin to that of a deer caught in the headlights, then realization washed over him and it shifted to remorse. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll pay you only after the lessons, promise. It’s just, you make me so clumsy in everything I do, it’s ridiculous, I’ve been such an asshole and I never realized-”

“Hey, it’s fine, alright? If you were more comfortable with having an affair, I’d have to start questioning whether I’m really the first one. How about you just stop paying me? I’m not that tight on money, you know. I was doing just fine when I had weekends off,” he smiled and ran a hand through Jaejoong’s hair.

“Are you sure?” Jaejoong asked, frowning. “It doesn’t make much of a difference to me either.”

“Jaejoong, I have my pride.”

“Fine. But if you’re ever a little short on money, don’t be afraid to ask me, alright?”

Yoochun grinned. “Alright, sugar daddy.”

At the end of Eun Ae’s summer vacation, Jaejoong came to Yoochun’s apartment with the widest smile he’d ever seen on his face and a bottle of champagne.

“I’ve got great news,” he said cheerfully, brushing past him after a quick kiss to make his way into the kitchen. He rummaged through the cupboards and clucked his tongue when he noticed his lover only owned shot glasses. “Should’ve bought you champagne flutes too, huh.”

Yoochun took out two mugs and set them down on the counter in front of Jaejoong with an arched eyebrow. “I’m sorry, rich man, but I can’t afford such luxury. Why the champagne?”

Jaejoong snorted and popped the bottle open, filling the mugs halfway before handing Yoochun one. “I, my love, have gotten a promotion. Wait, wait, before you hug me and tell me how awesome I am. My office is twice the size it used to be and three floors higher, I’m paid more than necessary for tasks I could do in my sleep, and because I’ll be going on business trips more often, they’ve offered me to rearrange my schedule to fit my family life better.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, I get off work two hours earlier than I used to, but I told my wife it was only one. Meaning, we don’t have to only see each other on Saturdays now because I can come here every day for an hour after work. And business trips, Yoochun.”

“What about the business trips?”

Jaejoong was practically cackling at that point. “Are you drunk already? That means actually being away for a while without having to lie, staying at a hotel, and maybe, I don’t know, spending all my free time with the handsome pianist that I took with me. Jacuzzi, room service, fluffy bathrobes and sex, lots of it.”

There was always that nagging feeling at the back of Yoochun’s mind that told him that all of this was wrong, so wrong, but seeing Jaejoong act like a little kid on Christmas morning, he couldn’t help but be happy either.

(“Hey, ass face.”

“Hi, Changmin-ah.”

“Oh, so you’re alive?”

Yoochun laughed. “Yeah, I’m alive. Are you worried about me? I’m the older one, that’s my job.”

“Last time you cut me out of your life like this, someone found you overdosing in an alley,” Changmin snapped, voice tinged with frustration.

“I’ve never cut you out of my life willingly.”

“I know that. But it still doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t any healthier than cocaine.”

“Yes, it is. He makes me happier than I’ve ever been.”

“For now, he does. Where is this going, Yoochun? He’s married. He’s lying to his wife. If he can lie to her, why couldn’t he lie to you? What if he’s only using you because you’re a pliant ass to shove his dick into, and who won’t tell anyone because you love him too much? And not to mention, he has an eight-year-old. You love that kid. Do you want to hurt her?”

An annoyed sigh. “I’m not doing this to hurt anyone, especially not myself. But it’s…I can’t explain this. Changmin, we know it’s wrong, the both of us do, and yet we can’t stop, because we need each other. Even if you’d been in love before, you couldn’t understand. I have, and normal love, it isn’t like this. It’s not as powerful.”

Changmin gripped his phone tighter. “You’re going insane, hyung. Please end this.” He paused, then, hesitantly but with the same firm tone laced with frustration: “I’ve been in love before. With an addict who pushed me away. I know how it feels, trust me.”

The dial tone rang in Yoochun’s ear, and Changmin threw his phone down on the couch angrily.)

It was a Friday night, and that day, Jaejoong’s wife had been the one to pick Eun Ae up from her lesson because the two of them were going away to her family’s, in Pyeongchang, for the weekend. After seeing them off, Jaejoong went to Yoochun’s apartment as usual. That day, rain was falling down hard and Jaejoong was almost completely drenched just from running out of his car and inside the building, shivering as he went up to his door and shook rain out of his hair.

But the door to his apartment was locked. Instead, he heard the muffled sounds of soft chords coming from the studio and slowly pushed the door open, making his steps quiet as he went inside and realized just how melancholic the notes were.

“Yoochun?” he asked softly, moving so that he could put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He spared a small glance at his face, and his expression was closed, like he was on the verge of tears but tried to hold them back; act like nothing was wrong.

“I’ve been thinking. It’s hard for me to share the ones I love,” Yoochun whispered after a moment, having stopped playing but fingers still on the keys. “Maybe I’m just selfish.”

“Then why me? Why me when I can only hurt you like this?”

Their eyes met, but only for a moment as Yoochun’s gaze fell back to the piano. He played a quiet, sad chord, and Jaejoong could almost feel his heart break.

“Because I can forget that you’re not all mine when you smile at me. Because I know you’ll still love me.” Jaejoong said nothing, so he continued. “How do I know when you’ve never told me you loved me, right? I know you didn’t want to say it because if you said those words out loud, it would make this more real than you could’ve ever wished, but I kind of figured it out. Between the day we met and the day you came to me for lessons, you acted…I don’t know, hostile with me? Like you were trying to keep a distance. Then, you said I was trying to snake my way into your family. And right before you kissed me, you told me you couldn’t get me out of your head. So I suppose you fell in love with me, then you tried to block it out, but you couldn’t stop thinking about me, so in your mind, I was trying to get into your family. Liking your daughter, making your wife want to sleep with me, making you fall in love with me.”

Yoochun sighed and shifted on the piano bench so that he was straddling it, pulling Jaejoong closer by his jacket and pressing his forehead against his abdomen. “But the thing is, I only want you, Jaejoong. Eun Ae’s important to me, but I don’t want to play any part in your family. I don’t want to be a friend and I don’t want to be the asshole who tore it apart either. I just want to love you, that’s all.”

His voice had grown quieter the more he talked, and when Jaejoong put his hands on his shoulders, he realized they were shaking. Heart clenching, he took a step back and tilted Yoochun’s chin up. By the way he flinched when Jaejoong looked down at him, he made it clear that he didn’t want to be seen crying, not by him. But Jaejoong didn’t really care. He crouched down in front of him and held his face in his hands gently, wiping his cheeks and kissing the fresh tears away as they fell.

“I love you,” he whispered, looking straight into his eyes. “I love you, Park Yoochun, and it kills me that I can’t give you the world like I wish I could, and it kills me that you have to feel hidden, or like a bad person because of what you’re doing, but I don’t want this to matter. In moments like this, I only want you, and I want you to only want me. This is just you and me, right here, right now, and I don’t want anyone to come between us now, or make you cry. Family or not, I’ll always love you, and that won’t change.”

He moved so that he could be sitting with Yoochun at the bench, wrapped his arms around him and held him as he cried. Tears slid down his cheeks as well after a moment, but he brushed it off in his mind as rain water falling from his hair onto his face. When they’d both stopped crying, he spoke up.

“Come with me, please? I’ll show you my house.”

“You mean hers.”

“Well, technically, I bought it so it’s all mine. And when she’s not there and you are, it can be ours,” he said softly.

Yoochun smiled a bit. “You do realize that you just said something really horrible, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but in my defence, it’s because I’m so in love. Come on, we’ll order take out and watch stupid movies and I’ll let you bend me over as many flat surfaces as you want.”

“Boy, do you know your audience. Your offer is hard to refuse, Kim Jaejoong-sshi.”

Jaejoong beamed, and took his hand. Theirs was a small, ephemeral happiness, doomed from the beginning, but they were aware of it, and it didn’t matter, because they were happy.

“Jaejoong?”

“Mmrph-what?”

Yoochun laughed, threading his fingers through Jaejoong’s hair, the latter’s words muffled against his hip. “How old are you?”

“You don’t know how old I am?”

“Well, we never talked about it, and I couldn’t possibly guess. To me, you look no older than twenty-five, but Eun Ae’s almost nine already, so I’m just, you know. Wondering.”

“I’m twenty-nine, but I’ll be turning thirty right after Eun Ae’s birthday. Let’s not talk about this, I feel so old,” he said, moving his head so that he could pout up at Yoochun.

Chuckling again, Yoochun bent down to kiss Jaejoong’s lips. Jaejoong, he realized, had become a father at the same time as he was young and famous. “You became a parent young.”

“Well, I became a husband young. I got married when I was twenty.”

“Tell me about it. I feel like I know so little about you.”

“Oh. Well, I didn’t think it was the kind of topic that interested my boyfriend, but okay. Once upon a time-”

“Jae, come on,” Yoochun said and poked his cheek. He smiled, batting his eyelashes at him.

“Fine, I just don’t know where to start,” he mumbled, scratching the side of his neck. “We went to college together, and our dads knew each other-business partners and stuff. It had already been decided ages ago that I would work at my dad’s company, so they thought, hell, why not get our kids to marry each other?”

“So it was an arranged marriage?”

“I guess, on some level. They didn’t force us to marry, just…brought us together. Back then, I really thought I loved her. She was pretty and sweet and funny, still is too. But I was never in love with her; she’s my closest friend, but she’s not the love of my life. I could have left her because it didn’t work, but then she learned she was pregnant, and I chickened out. I couldn’t do that to her, and now that Eun Ae’s here, I…she was my whole life before you came along.”

Yoochun nodded, fingering the chain around Jaejoong’s neck. “And now?”

“Now, I’m just watching myself destroy my own family and hurt the true love of my life in the process, and I don’t even care as long as I can be with you. Selfish, aren’t I?”

“We’re both selfish, remember?”

“Yeah.”

From the beginning, they’d known that they made one false move, and it was over. It was only a matter of time until everything would come crumbling at their feet eventually, a ticking clock until the game they were playing would end, and it was clear they’d lost when Jaejoong called Yoochun with tears in his voice.

“Y-Yoochun?”

Yoochun’s heart pounded in his chest; it was obvious what he was about to be told, but he didn’t want to admit to himself that the worst was happening. “Jae? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“We’re…we’re over. She found out.”

The word seemed to tip upside down. It was a stupid mistake, too; a pair of Yoochun’s boxers lying forgotten under Jaejoong’s bed when he left the house in a hurry because his wife had come back earlier than planned from another weekend away. A pair of boxers that had swept away the best thing that had happened in Yoochun’s entire life.

“I told her everything, and she-we’re moving away so I can better erase you from my life. I’m so sorry, Yoochun, I…”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. Sorry won’t change a single thing. Nothing will,” Yoochun snapped. Why was he angry? He was just as guilty as Jaejoong was, and if it was someone’s fault, it had to be his the most. They’d both gotten involved knowing what was to happen, and yet, his feelings got the better of him. Years down the road, he’d regret that he never said words that wouldn’t have hurt Jaejoong, that day.

“I love you. I always will,” Jaejoong whispered before hanging up.

Yoochun listened to the dial tone blankly, as if it would help him get back the melodies that had already left his heart. Jaejoong was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

(“You can say you told me so now.”

“This time, I don’t want to.”

Yoochun cried into Changmin’s shirt for hours. Days. Weeks.

“Why do I always cling to things that are bad for me?”

“Beats the shit out of me.”)

It’s already been ten years since Jaejoong left when Yoochun meets Eun Ae at the grocery store. She’s nineteen, beautiful, and he doesn’t recognize her at first; her hair is dyed platinum blonde, her eyes hidden behind icy blue circle lenses. He expects to see her nails manicured into long claws like girls her age wear theirs, but they’re not. Short and painted a colour called Mint Candy Apple.

“You’re still a pianist,” he says when he glances down at her hands. She’s still wearing the frown that she had on her face when she called his name from the end of the dairy products alley a minute ago.

“I debuted, too. I thanked you in my album.” She pulls a CD out of her purse and hands it to him, her face softening a tad. “I’ll always respect you as a pianist. As a human being? Not so much. I trusted you when I was a kid, you know. I saw you as a friend.”

The words hurt, but part of him wants to smile at her. She’s just as straightforward as her father, her words as crude as his could be from time to time. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t change a single thing.”

He laughs at the irony, even though he doesn’t really want to.

“Destroying my family was hilarious to you?”

“It wasn’t,” he says softly, his laughter dying down as fast as it started. “I really am sorry. I hope you fall in love with the right person, not like I did.”

“I damn well hope so too. You know, the worst isn’t what you did to my family. It’s what you did to my dad. You might as well just have killed him. He stopped singing after we moved away, you know. He never listened to classical music with me again, he never came close to a piano again, and he has this faraway look in his eyes every time I play Gymnopédie no.1. It’s like you just kept all of him with you.”

“It hurts me just as much as you to hear this, Eun Ae.”

Suddenly, something seems to click inside her, and the look in her eyes turns from hate to pity. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

“Loved?”

“I-oh.”

“I’m sorry. I think it’s best…I should go,” he says, handing the CD back to her. She watches him turn away, but stops him with a hand on his arm, scribbling something on the case with a permanent marker and forcing it back into his hands.

“They got a divorce last year. It’s stupid that it only just happened, because even before you came into the picture, they were just holding their marriage together for me. But I wasn’t a naïve kid. It was always obvious that they never loved each other like they should have. When my mom found out about you two…she was probably a lot less hurt than she was angry that he cheated. Always for my sake. Anyway, he’s single for now, but he’s seeing this guy, his name is Jung...something. He looks perfect, but not for him. You are. Don’t let him snatch my dad away, okay? Make him sing again.”

Yoochun nods, looking at the address on the case. “Thank you, Eun Ae. Good luck with your career, and don’t let it get bigger than you can handle. Advice from a has-been.”

“I can take care of myself, Micky. Don’t let your past get bigger than your future.”

And just like that, she smiles, and goes back to her groceries.

It takes Yoochun a week to even dare going on Jaejoong’s street. His building is four times the size and quality of his own, his living room window large enough for Yoochun to see into. He stays immobile on the sidewalk for what feels like hours, looking up as Jaejoong drinks wine with the perfect stranger Eun Ae has told him about; tall, tan, handsome, muscular even in the suit he’s wearing. Jaejoong laughs, and it filters out of the slightly open window as he takes his guest’s glass out of his hands to slide his suit jacket off his shoulders. His date says something and he freezes for a moment.

Then he starts singing.

Yoochun stares, and stares, and listens. He listens until it makes him feel a little sick, until the cold bites at his fingers. He fights back the tears in his eyes and smiles up at the window, just as Jaejoong glances into the street, as if feeling him there. His eyes widen.

By the time he gets down outside, Yoochun is gone, burrowing further into his scarf.

There isn’t a day where he doesn’t hate himself for falling in love with Kim Jaejoong, and if he had a chance to do it all over again, he wouldn’t change a single thing. But first, he has to learn how to let go of his demons.

epilogue