(no subject)
Title: Lullabye for a Stormy Night (2/2)
Authors:
butterflyweb and
nemesis_cry
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Homin
Summary: A kink gone wrong leaves Changmin and Yunho to patch up a relationship that may be without hope.
Warning: rape
Jaejoong takes him out to lunch, blurring past the lines of consent into demands and threats. He means nothing by it, but Yunho is at the end of his rope with a crick in his neck. If he agrees, it's only to gain a moment's peace.
"You look like shit," the other man tells him, shattering all hope. "What happened last night?"
The accusation Yunho hears may not even be there, but it still hits home. "I didn't do anything," he snaps, stabbing at his jjigae with his chopsticks, shoulders lined in tension.
There's a pause, Jaejoong's short, painted nails tapping against the formica countertop. "I didn't say that you did, Yunnie," the other man responds, voice gentled.
"Everyone thinks I did, so why not you?" he jokes but it's without humor. "Fuck, I'm so sick of defending myself."
"No one's accusing you, though. Not the cops, not me..." Jaejoong shrugs. Obviously the rest of the world doesn't matter. "Changmin called me this morning, by the way. Asked if I wanted him to move in with me. Weirdest roundabout conversation I've ever had."
Yunho sighs, dropping his chopsticks, massaging at his temples. "I... I was thinking that it might be better for him to be somewhere... neutral. Somewhere he feels safe." A shrug. "That's not our home anymore."
"Then move," Jaejoong suggests, brisk and uncompromising. "There's a penthouse in this really cool building two blocks from my place. I've been showing it around to a lot of people, but if you're interested, I can... make sure the offers don't reach the seller in time."
"Wouldn't that be unethical?" Not to mention, Yunho thinks, a gamble, given the circumstances.
Jaejoong looks at him as if he were slow. "As long as someone's buying, you think my bosses care who it is?"
Yunho almost smiles at him, the cocky braggart he grew up with never too far from Jaejoong's present, no matter how nice he cleans up in a suit. "I don't know. I'll...I'll bring it up with Changmin. If he'll even speak to me."
A hand slaps his shoulder, the gesture something stolen off the TV screen. "Don't be such a drama queen, Yunnie," his friend laughs. "He didn't want to listen to you when you were plying him with drinks at the club all those months ago. You got him to hear you out back then, you can do it again." A shrug, winding down from his self induced amusement. "It's not like anyone else can do it."
"His therapist can."
"Bullshit, his therapist's a creep," Jaejoong decides. "I've never met him, but you know, he sounds like one."
Yunho shrugs. "He seems comfortable telling him things. Even before we dated. I mean, if it helps him..."
"He needs to come to you, Yunho. He loves you and you love him. It's sickeningly sweet, believe me, but it's there. Don't push, but don't pull away from him either."
It's like something from a self-help book written for women. Full of contradictory advice and hair-pulling 'cases' that are meant to illustrate them. He wonders what such a book would say about helping his lover cope with rape, especially when said lover thinks he's guilty.
"Yeah... listen when he wants to talk, don't ask if he doesn't." A snort. "Heard it all before."
Jaejoong tilted his head. "But have you been doing it?" He shakes his head. "If I know you, Yunho, and I do, you've been treating him like glass. I know you're worried, but if you treat him differently, how can you expect your relationship to be the same?"
Their relationship can't ever be the same; he doesn't need a self-help book, therapy or Jaejoong to tell him so. It's got to change, adapt to what has happened to his lover. He thinks about saying as much to his childhood friend, but Jaejoong already knows too much about their sex life to be privy to any more sordid details.
"I guess I'll just have to try harder," he sighs and clinks their glasses together.
The other man's hand covers his. "And don't forget to take care of yourself, babo."
*
At first, he mostly drives in a circle, wide enough to be ignored until the third time, when Changmin glances his way pointedly and he feels the pain of his own incompetence.
"Where are we going?" his lover asks and the first thing to come to mind is Jaejoong's offer.
"There's a penthouse for sale somewhere around here. Just can't find the street," he lies but it saves the day. Almost, anyway.
He can feel the weight of the other's stare. "A penthouse?"
Yunho shrugs, flipping on his turn signal and taking the next left. "I thought we could maybe take a look at it. No commitment, just a go and see kind of thing."
He's hoping this'll brighten up the other man's monotony, return him to the giggling, witty, exciting boy he used to be. If his sneer is anything to go by, they've still got a long way to go. Yunho remembers Jaejoong's words and tries to reign in his frustration as he parks.
The neighborhood is nice enough, the high rise even more. It's a little phallic, a little too much like an ice sculpture, but it looks safe and trendy and he's always thought Changmin harbored a secret love for all things with taste.
"What do you think?" he asks, hoping this is the place, hoping he won't be caught in a lie.
Changmin shrugs listlessly, as if it's any other of a hundred things he couldn't care less about anymore, but not before Yunho notices the way his gaze catches on the building. Don't treat him like glass, Yunho thinks, biting into his lip to enforce the lesson, and reaches over to take Changmin's hand.
"Let's go in, check if they're showing."
The entrance is glass paneled but thick, like airplane windows. Doors slide inward when they approach and swing shut gently behind them. It's fancy, to be sure, but it's not the only highlight. A security guard lingers at a desk, a security camera above his head. Nice. Point for Jaejoong.
Changmin's fingers squeeze his but he can't tell if they're trying to let go or not. "Looks more like a bank to me."
"It's just the lobby," Yunho shrugs, pulling him gently along as he approaches the front desk. "Hi, we're here to check out the penthouse?" He prays the man knows what he's talking about.
"Ah, yes..." Papers are ruffled in search of something, the man ignoring them for a good minute before he looks up again. "Couldn't find the key, sorry. You wouldn't believe how many people used to come in the past few days. But today? No one. You're the first ones."
Yunho plays dumb while inside, he finds himself debating whether or not to pinch or kiss Jaejoong next time he sees his friend.
He holds the key up, looking hopefully at Changmin. "Want to go up?"
His lover gives a noncommittal shrug at first, but his eyes spark at the question. It's as good as any reply and so Yunho tugs him to the elevator by the hand, wondering if Changmin will be uncomfortable in an enclosed space just with him before he remembers that they sleep in the same bed - and several worlds apart - each night.
The floors pass by one by one, the lights above the doors changing with soft, dulcet tones. When it stops on the selected floor, Yunho turns the key in the slot, waits for the elevator doors to open and leads Changmin inside. He hasn't let go of the younger man's hand yet, and unless Changmin pulls away, he doesn't plan to.
"Holy hell, look at this place."
Changmin exhales loudly. "Yeah..." His voice carries with an echo over the open plan, the giant floor-to-ceiling windows spanning two floors, over marble and wood paneling that makes the place look more like a chateau in Switzerland than an apartment in a high rise in the city.
"What do you think, Min-ah?" he asks with a grin. "Think you could bear living here?"
Changmin gives him a small smile that he brands into his memory, trailing fingertips over the countertop. He hesitates, then points, shrugging slightly. "The couch could go there," he offers, voice quiet.
Yunho doesn't hesitate to play along. "And the stereo in the corner there?"
"No coffee table this time," Changmin murmurs, biting his lips in thought. "Maybe just stacks of my books."
"So they don't just gather dust on the shelf?" he jokes, pressing a button next to the windows that, predictably, makes the shutters roll down. Even plunged in darkness, the penthouse glows with security lighting. It's reassuring in a way, even if for his part he'd prefer something less contemporary.
Changmin tugs him forward, for the first time taking the lead. "The bedrooms must be upstairs."
It's enough to make his spirits rise, even as he follows him up the carpeted steps, tucked close behind him even though the hall is spacious. They open doors one by one, discovering a closet, two bedrooms and a bath, Changmin peering in at the round tub before moving on. The master bedroom is large, the ceiling vaulted, and flooded with light from the wide windows.
"It's warm in here," the younger man mutters pensively, leaning against the door.
Yunho shrugs. "I'm sure we can turn it down if need be..."
"No. I like it." Changmin shoots him a look. "It feels comfortable." His palm is warm against Yunho's, thumb stroking the back of his hand like they're lovers walking through a park, too timid to do more than hold hands.
Despite himself, Yunho takes a step forward, aware that he's boxing him in.
"I know I said no commitment--it still stands, but...would you want this place?"
Changmin doesn't take his eyes off him. It's a little disconcerting to be watched like that, but altogether it's not exactly a chore. He swallows thickly, gearing up for a let down.
"Yes," Changmin tells him, soft and short, tongue wetting chapped lips. "I think we should."
He's pushing it, he knows he is, but the happiness that wells up at the younger man's words is too sudden and bright to be ignored, and before he knows it, he's leaning in to bring their mouths together. It's little more than a peck, but Yunho feels his heart stop start. Fears rejection.
Changmin exhales, whole body sagging against his. And smiles.
"That was nice," he breathes and before Yunho knows it, he's being kissed again, gentle but with purpose, some missing part of him realigning with how things used to be. It feels right and he lets Changmin set the pace, trying his damnedest not to hurry his lover. This is his show. This is all for him.
And when his lover breaks the kiss to rest his head on his shoulder, arms loose around his waist, Yunho holds him close, and attributes the sting in his eyes to the sun's harsh rays.
*
He takes the thought of therapy with indulgence the next day. It may not be his favorite place, what with all the things expected of him, with everything he's said and cried and bitched about in the past, but the prospect of dining out with his lover later tonight makes it all bearable. All okay.
Even his therapist notices.
"You're smiling. What's funny?"
He shakes his head, toying with a thread on the throw pillow. "Nothing. I'm just...in a good mood, is all." A pause. "Yunho and I are moving into an apartment next week. I'm look forward to it, I guess."
The pen starts tapping the paper in that displeased manner his therapist has perfected over the years. "Don't you think it's a little too... well, soon? You were telling me only last week that you and here were having some problems." He purses his lips. "He told me he was going to suggest you take a break from each other for a little while. For everyone's good."
Changmin's smile dims slightly. "He tried. I...I think he was just scared, you know? Afraid that he was hurting me in some way." He shakes his head. "I was scared, too. But...I think this is good. We can start over somewhere new."
The man shakes his head. "Changing the wrapper doesn't make what's inside any less rotten, Changmin."
He frowns. "That's a bad analogy and you know it." Fingers stop toying with the loose thread, stilled by the cold pen pressing against his wrist.
"Is it? Your relationship is riddled with problems." The therapist sighs. "I really wish you could see it. It doesn't do to be ignorant to your own reality. You two got together for sex and then allowed that to escalate until it was the raison d'etre of your little menage."
Changmin stares at him, eyes wide with hurt. "That's...that's not true and you know it. I've...I've told you everything about us, and that's what you think? Yunho cares for me. And our sex life has nothing to do with.. with what happened." His voice wavers as he says the last, forcing confidence behind the words.
The therapist sets aside pen and paper and sighs again. "It has everything to do with it. You told me yourself, the attacker used your trust in Yunho to make you weak and subdue you before you could react. If you hadn't entered into such an arrangement with your boyfriend, this never would've happened, would it?"
Changmin shakes his head once and then again, fiercely. "That...that doesn't make my trust in Yunho wrong. It just makes whoever... it just makes them an even sicker bastard for exploiting it."
"Your relationship with him is dangerous. Abusive." Another sigh, but this time, Changmin almost imagines it's fake. Like the man is putting on a show. The therapist moves from his chair to the couch, crowding Changmin into the corner. "You deserve so much better than that."
He feels his heart quicken, a sickening thud in his ears. "What are you talking about?" He tries to scoot back, but he's flush against the tall arm of the couch. "I love him. He loves me. I don't want to be with anyone else."
"You've never been with anyone else, so how can you know? How can you know what real love... real passion and obsession are about?" his therapist presses, rattling off terms in jargon that Changmin doesn't understand and doesn't want to. Something about Yunho's complexes, about archetypal father figures and desires for punishment, about sexually risqué relationships and self-hatred. Something about his past that hits home and sends him scrabbling for the door.
This isn't right.
He feels like he's suffocating and suddenly Yunho is there, clutching his arms and mouthing things to him, the world swimming around him, with him in dizzying torrent.
His therapist appears in his field of vision, a bottle of pills in hand.
No, he tries to say. No, please.
No words come out, but he choke and coughs and swallows around two pills thrust between his teeth, like cloth being stuffed in his mouth, like being held down--
*
His head is swimming, the soft sound of steady beeps faint like being heard through cotton, his mouth dry as he tries to drag his eyes open.
There's a peach colored blanket heavy over his body, tucked up to his chin in that way Yunho has, where he thinks if you're not ensconced in the blanket, you might as well not have one. Changmin shuts his eyes again, the energy to keep them open just not present. Why is he here again? Did something happen? Were they in an accident?
He tries to jerk his arm up, call for a nurse to bring him a glass of water for his scratchy throat, but finds the movement arrested. Thick bands, like the bandages he saw on a friend who'd tried to slit her wrists, keep him immobile.
"You're awake," a familiar voice greets gently. "I was starting to get worried."
The breath feels stolen from his throat, the past hours rushing through his mind at a frenetic pace. He tries to jerk away, feels himself immobilized. "Yunho!" he shouts, voice raw. "Yunho!"
"Shh," the man coos. "He's being questioned by the police. Again." A finger moves over his lips, the man suddenly standing much too close. "It's just us, just as it should be."
He tries to move out of his grasp, feels the prick of tears in his eyes but they don't spill. Been there, done that.
"Why," he chokes, straining his muscles, pulling at the restraints as hard as he can. "Why would you do this to me? I trusted you, I trusted..."
A hand strokes through his hair. "Don't you know? It's was the only way to get your attention." The man smooths his thumb over Changmin's lips, laughing as he tries to bite. "Remember the first day you walked into my office? I do. You were... what, barely eighteen? Some kids go to get drunk on their birthday, you took an appointment with a shrink. I thought it was cute. And then you walked in."
Changmin bites back the urge to vomit. This is fucked up beyond belief. "You're sick--"
"No, Changmin. You are." His fingers stroke his cheek. "I'm going to recommend you be placed in my private clinic. We'll make you all better."
He shuts his eyes tightly, trying to block out the touch. "Yunho," he whispers, pleads, "Yunho, please..."
A harsh slap to his cheek makes him gasp. "Quit fucking talking about him! Do you see what he's done to you? What he's reduced you to?" Those same caressing fingers wrap around his throat. "You were so beautiful. So young and innocent. You're a pervert, Changmin, you know that? You're a little slut--god, your ass felt good that night." He laughs, dangerous and crazed and Changmin gapes.
"Son of a bitch..." Anger, more than fear, shakes him. "You fucker! Bastard, how could you?"
"I love you, baby."
"You sick fuck," he spits, chest heaving with anger, with betrayal from some he'd trusted with his secrets for years. "You're going to fucking die in jail, you psycho."
His therapist of six years clicks his tongue and steps to the medical cabinet at the far end of the room. "I hoped you wouldn't make me do this. You can be so stubborn, so I suppose it's to be expected..." A syringe is torn from its wrapper, the man rummaging through the cabinet.
Shit. Shit, the fucker is going to drug him. Kill him. God only knows.
Changmin grits his teeth, twists his wrists. One of the restraints is looser than the other.
"I listened to you go on and on about another man for all that time.." the man shakes his head. "Do you know how much that hurt me, Min-ah?" The nickname off the bastard's lips makes Changmin's skin crawl. He clucks his tongue, drawing clear liquid into the syringe and tapping the side, squirting a few drops.
Like a pro.
"I wanted to put a stop to it, of course... but then you gave me such a wonderful opportunity when you told me about his sick fantasies." The man sighs, rolling his head as if to relax coiled muscles.
Changmin tugs on the band around his right arm, jerks it this way and that and grits his teeth. One way or another, he's getting out of this. Even if he has to bite his way through the leather. He didn't fight the first time.
Never again.
"I knew if I just showed you the harm in them, the depravity in them, there was a chance to get you out of his grasp. And that's all I wanted, baby. I promise you."
He draws closer, the damned syringe poised at the ready. It doesn't even matter what it contains anymore. There's only one thing driving Changmin and that's the will to escape.
"It's okay," his therapist smiles, "we'll be together now, won't we? Happily ever after."
Almost close enough...almost...
He waits till the man leans forward, needle poised at the ready, and jerks his hand free.
It's the best right hook he's ever delivered and, simultaneously, the first.
The therapist lumbers back on his feet, dazed, syringe dropping from his hand to the floor and it's enough distraction for Changmin to press the nurse call button erratically, to unplug the heart monitor. Surely someone'll come in then. Surely Yunho--
"You little shit!"
Hands are around his throat then, fear spiking in him white-hot and he slams his fist against the asshole's temple, again and again, the blows growing weaker as spots blossom before his eyes.
History repeats itself, except not quite. Science fiction and common sense have gotten that much right, he thinks dimly, hearing Yunho's voice before he sees him.
Blue sleeves pull the other man off of him, tugging him back until he has no choice but to let go. The first breath of air that enters his lungs is a little like being born again. It would explain why he's crying real tears, jerking his left arm helplessly, torn between wanting to follow the son of a bitch who turned him into this wreck in the first place and wanting to hide himself in Yunho's arms, never to be seen again.
*
The silk is cool and ticklish against his skin, brushing the tips of his ears and teasing at the nape of his neck where the ends of the scarf hang. Warm, strong hands cup his jaw, a mouth meeting his and drowning him in a honey slow kiss, his fingernails digging into heated skin.
The clock is like a metronome in his ears, counting time, increasing anticipation.
He's held tightly, like he might run away and it's always a little funny to note how desperate his lover can be. How utterly out of control. It's amusing and flattering and the only reason he keeps up the teasing when he could just sink down, give them both what they need.
"Love you," he hears muttered in his ear, sweet words destined to weaken his resolve.
"Cheat," he murmurs in reply, the muscles in his thighs twitching from his restraint. A mouth sucks hot and wet at his collarbone, fingers wandering over his spine. It melts him, just a little, just enough for him to sink down an inch, breath catching in his chest.
Short licks against his skin, right above his heart and his lover stops trying to urge him. "Still true," he argues husky and rough with too much foreplay and not enough patience, stroking his hip.
He has to agree, but that doesn't mean he relents. The taste of power is intoxicating, all the more so since he can't see his lover's face, just imagine the heated gaze, the swollen lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Love you back," he stutters out, anticipation warm in his veins. A beat. "Trust you."
Yunho pulls and he pushes and though he can't see, he pictures his lover's eyes, feels the heat of his gaze and lets go.
Of everything.
Authors:
butterflyweb and
nemesis_cry
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Homin
Summary: A kink gone wrong leaves Changmin and Yunho to patch up a relationship that may be without hope.
Warning: rape
Jaejoong takes him out to lunch, blurring past the lines of consent into demands and threats. He means nothing by it, but Yunho is at the end of his rope with a crick in his neck. If he agrees, it's only to gain a moment's peace.
"You look like shit," the other man tells him, shattering all hope. "What happened last night?"
The accusation Yunho hears may not even be there, but it still hits home. "I didn't do anything," he snaps, stabbing at his jjigae with his chopsticks, shoulders lined in tension.
There's a pause, Jaejoong's short, painted nails tapping against the formica countertop. "I didn't say that you did, Yunnie," the other man responds, voice gentled.
"Everyone thinks I did, so why not you?" he jokes but it's without humor. "Fuck, I'm so sick of defending myself."
"No one's accusing you, though. Not the cops, not me..." Jaejoong shrugs. Obviously the rest of the world doesn't matter. "Changmin called me this morning, by the way. Asked if I wanted him to move in with me. Weirdest roundabout conversation I've ever had."
Yunho sighs, dropping his chopsticks, massaging at his temples. "I... I was thinking that it might be better for him to be somewhere... neutral. Somewhere he feels safe." A shrug. "That's not our home anymore."
"Then move," Jaejoong suggests, brisk and uncompromising. "There's a penthouse in this really cool building two blocks from my place. I've been showing it around to a lot of people, but if you're interested, I can... make sure the offers don't reach the seller in time."
"Wouldn't that be unethical?" Not to mention, Yunho thinks, a gamble, given the circumstances.
Jaejoong looks at him as if he were slow. "As long as someone's buying, you think my bosses care who it is?"
Yunho almost smiles at him, the cocky braggart he grew up with never too far from Jaejoong's present, no matter how nice he cleans up in a suit. "I don't know. I'll...I'll bring it up with Changmin. If he'll even speak to me."
A hand slaps his shoulder, the gesture something stolen off the TV screen. "Don't be such a drama queen, Yunnie," his friend laughs. "He didn't want to listen to you when you were plying him with drinks at the club all those months ago. You got him to hear you out back then, you can do it again." A shrug, winding down from his self induced amusement. "It's not like anyone else can do it."
"His therapist can."
"Bullshit, his therapist's a creep," Jaejoong decides. "I've never met him, but you know, he sounds like one."
Yunho shrugs. "He seems comfortable telling him things. Even before we dated. I mean, if it helps him..."
"He needs to come to you, Yunho. He loves you and you love him. It's sickeningly sweet, believe me, but it's there. Don't push, but don't pull away from him either."
It's like something from a self-help book written for women. Full of contradictory advice and hair-pulling 'cases' that are meant to illustrate them. He wonders what such a book would say about helping his lover cope with rape, especially when said lover thinks he's guilty.
"Yeah... listen when he wants to talk, don't ask if he doesn't." A snort. "Heard it all before."
Jaejoong tilted his head. "But have you been doing it?" He shakes his head. "If I know you, Yunho, and I do, you've been treating him like glass. I know you're worried, but if you treat him differently, how can you expect your relationship to be the same?"
Their relationship can't ever be the same; he doesn't need a self-help book, therapy or Jaejoong to tell him so. It's got to change, adapt to what has happened to his lover. He thinks about saying as much to his childhood friend, but Jaejoong already knows too much about their sex life to be privy to any more sordid details.
"I guess I'll just have to try harder," he sighs and clinks their glasses together.
The other man's hand covers his. "And don't forget to take care of yourself, babo."
*
At first, he mostly drives in a circle, wide enough to be ignored until the third time, when Changmin glances his way pointedly and he feels the pain of his own incompetence.
"Where are we going?" his lover asks and the first thing to come to mind is Jaejoong's offer.
"There's a penthouse for sale somewhere around here. Just can't find the street," he lies but it saves the day. Almost, anyway.
He can feel the weight of the other's stare. "A penthouse?"
Yunho shrugs, flipping on his turn signal and taking the next left. "I thought we could maybe take a look at it. No commitment, just a go and see kind of thing."
He's hoping this'll brighten up the other man's monotony, return him to the giggling, witty, exciting boy he used to be. If his sneer is anything to go by, they've still got a long way to go. Yunho remembers Jaejoong's words and tries to reign in his frustration as he parks.
The neighborhood is nice enough, the high rise even more. It's a little phallic, a little too much like an ice sculpture, but it looks safe and trendy and he's always thought Changmin harbored a secret love for all things with taste.
"What do you think?" he asks, hoping this is the place, hoping he won't be caught in a lie.
Changmin shrugs listlessly, as if it's any other of a hundred things he couldn't care less about anymore, but not before Yunho notices the way his gaze catches on the building. Don't treat him like glass, Yunho thinks, biting into his lip to enforce the lesson, and reaches over to take Changmin's hand.
"Let's go in, check if they're showing."
The entrance is glass paneled but thick, like airplane windows. Doors slide inward when they approach and swing shut gently behind them. It's fancy, to be sure, but it's not the only highlight. A security guard lingers at a desk, a security camera above his head. Nice. Point for Jaejoong.
Changmin's fingers squeeze his but he can't tell if they're trying to let go or not. "Looks more like a bank to me."
"It's just the lobby," Yunho shrugs, pulling him gently along as he approaches the front desk. "Hi, we're here to check out the penthouse?" He prays the man knows what he's talking about.
"Ah, yes..." Papers are ruffled in search of something, the man ignoring them for a good minute before he looks up again. "Couldn't find the key, sorry. You wouldn't believe how many people used to come in the past few days. But today? No one. You're the first ones."
Yunho plays dumb while inside, he finds himself debating whether or not to pinch or kiss Jaejoong next time he sees his friend.
He holds the key up, looking hopefully at Changmin. "Want to go up?"
His lover gives a noncommittal shrug at first, but his eyes spark at the question. It's as good as any reply and so Yunho tugs him to the elevator by the hand, wondering if Changmin will be uncomfortable in an enclosed space just with him before he remembers that they sleep in the same bed - and several worlds apart - each night.
The floors pass by one by one, the lights above the doors changing with soft, dulcet tones. When it stops on the selected floor, Yunho turns the key in the slot, waits for the elevator doors to open and leads Changmin inside. He hasn't let go of the younger man's hand yet, and unless Changmin pulls away, he doesn't plan to.
"Holy hell, look at this place."
Changmin exhales loudly. "Yeah..." His voice carries with an echo over the open plan, the giant floor-to-ceiling windows spanning two floors, over marble and wood paneling that makes the place look more like a chateau in Switzerland than an apartment in a high rise in the city.
"What do you think, Min-ah?" he asks with a grin. "Think you could bear living here?"
Changmin gives him a small smile that he brands into his memory, trailing fingertips over the countertop. He hesitates, then points, shrugging slightly. "The couch could go there," he offers, voice quiet.
Yunho doesn't hesitate to play along. "And the stereo in the corner there?"
"No coffee table this time," Changmin murmurs, biting his lips in thought. "Maybe just stacks of my books."
"So they don't just gather dust on the shelf?" he jokes, pressing a button next to the windows that, predictably, makes the shutters roll down. Even plunged in darkness, the penthouse glows with security lighting. It's reassuring in a way, even if for his part he'd prefer something less contemporary.
Changmin tugs him forward, for the first time taking the lead. "The bedrooms must be upstairs."
It's enough to make his spirits rise, even as he follows him up the carpeted steps, tucked close behind him even though the hall is spacious. They open doors one by one, discovering a closet, two bedrooms and a bath, Changmin peering in at the round tub before moving on. The master bedroom is large, the ceiling vaulted, and flooded with light from the wide windows.
"It's warm in here," the younger man mutters pensively, leaning against the door.
Yunho shrugs. "I'm sure we can turn it down if need be..."
"No. I like it." Changmin shoots him a look. "It feels comfortable." His palm is warm against Yunho's, thumb stroking the back of his hand like they're lovers walking through a park, too timid to do more than hold hands.
Despite himself, Yunho takes a step forward, aware that he's boxing him in.
"I know I said no commitment--it still stands, but...would you want this place?"
Changmin doesn't take his eyes off him. It's a little disconcerting to be watched like that, but altogether it's not exactly a chore. He swallows thickly, gearing up for a let down.
"Yes," Changmin tells him, soft and short, tongue wetting chapped lips. "I think we should."
He's pushing it, he knows he is, but the happiness that wells up at the younger man's words is too sudden and bright to be ignored, and before he knows it, he's leaning in to bring their mouths together. It's little more than a peck, but Yunho feels his heart stop start. Fears rejection.
Changmin exhales, whole body sagging against his. And smiles.
"That was nice," he breathes and before Yunho knows it, he's being kissed again, gentle but with purpose, some missing part of him realigning with how things used to be. It feels right and he lets Changmin set the pace, trying his damnedest not to hurry his lover. This is his show. This is all for him.
And when his lover breaks the kiss to rest his head on his shoulder, arms loose around his waist, Yunho holds him close, and attributes the sting in his eyes to the sun's harsh rays.
*
He takes the thought of therapy with indulgence the next day. It may not be his favorite place, what with all the things expected of him, with everything he's said and cried and bitched about in the past, but the prospect of dining out with his lover later tonight makes it all bearable. All okay.
Even his therapist notices.
"You're smiling. What's funny?"
He shakes his head, toying with a thread on the throw pillow. "Nothing. I'm just...in a good mood, is all." A pause. "Yunho and I are moving into an apartment next week. I'm look forward to it, I guess."
The pen starts tapping the paper in that displeased manner his therapist has perfected over the years. "Don't you think it's a little too... well, soon? You were telling me only last week that you and here were having some problems." He purses his lips. "He told me he was going to suggest you take a break from each other for a little while. For everyone's good."
Changmin's smile dims slightly. "He tried. I...I think he was just scared, you know? Afraid that he was hurting me in some way." He shakes his head. "I was scared, too. But...I think this is good. We can start over somewhere new."
The man shakes his head. "Changing the wrapper doesn't make what's inside any less rotten, Changmin."
He frowns. "That's a bad analogy and you know it." Fingers stop toying with the loose thread, stilled by the cold pen pressing against his wrist.
"Is it? Your relationship is riddled with problems." The therapist sighs. "I really wish you could see it. It doesn't do to be ignorant to your own reality. You two got together for sex and then allowed that to escalate until it was the raison d'etre of your little menage."
Changmin stares at him, eyes wide with hurt. "That's...that's not true and you know it. I've...I've told you everything about us, and that's what you think? Yunho cares for me. And our sex life has nothing to do with.. with what happened." His voice wavers as he says the last, forcing confidence behind the words.
The therapist sets aside pen and paper and sighs again. "It has everything to do with it. You told me yourself, the attacker used your trust in Yunho to make you weak and subdue you before you could react. If you hadn't entered into such an arrangement with your boyfriend, this never would've happened, would it?"
Changmin shakes his head once and then again, fiercely. "That...that doesn't make my trust in Yunho wrong. It just makes whoever... it just makes them an even sicker bastard for exploiting it."
"Your relationship with him is dangerous. Abusive." Another sigh, but this time, Changmin almost imagines it's fake. Like the man is putting on a show. The therapist moves from his chair to the couch, crowding Changmin into the corner. "You deserve so much better than that."
He feels his heart quicken, a sickening thud in his ears. "What are you talking about?" He tries to scoot back, but he's flush against the tall arm of the couch. "I love him. He loves me. I don't want to be with anyone else."
"You've never been with anyone else, so how can you know? How can you know what real love... real passion and obsession are about?" his therapist presses, rattling off terms in jargon that Changmin doesn't understand and doesn't want to. Something about Yunho's complexes, about archetypal father figures and desires for punishment, about sexually risqué relationships and self-hatred. Something about his past that hits home and sends him scrabbling for the door.
This isn't right.
He feels like he's suffocating and suddenly Yunho is there, clutching his arms and mouthing things to him, the world swimming around him, with him in dizzying torrent.
His therapist appears in his field of vision, a bottle of pills in hand.
No, he tries to say. No, please.
No words come out, but he choke and coughs and swallows around two pills thrust between his teeth, like cloth being stuffed in his mouth, like being held down--
*
His head is swimming, the soft sound of steady beeps faint like being heard through cotton, his mouth dry as he tries to drag his eyes open.
There's a peach colored blanket heavy over his body, tucked up to his chin in that way Yunho has, where he thinks if you're not ensconced in the blanket, you might as well not have one. Changmin shuts his eyes again, the energy to keep them open just not present. Why is he here again? Did something happen? Were they in an accident?
He tries to jerk his arm up, call for a nurse to bring him a glass of water for his scratchy throat, but finds the movement arrested. Thick bands, like the bandages he saw on a friend who'd tried to slit her wrists, keep him immobile.
"You're awake," a familiar voice greets gently. "I was starting to get worried."
The breath feels stolen from his throat, the past hours rushing through his mind at a frenetic pace. He tries to jerk away, feels himself immobilized. "Yunho!" he shouts, voice raw. "Yunho!"
"Shh," the man coos. "He's being questioned by the police. Again." A finger moves over his lips, the man suddenly standing much too close. "It's just us, just as it should be."
He tries to move out of his grasp, feels the prick of tears in his eyes but they don't spill. Been there, done that.
"Why," he chokes, straining his muscles, pulling at the restraints as hard as he can. "Why would you do this to me? I trusted you, I trusted..."
A hand strokes through his hair. "Don't you know? It's was the only way to get your attention." The man smooths his thumb over Changmin's lips, laughing as he tries to bite. "Remember the first day you walked into my office? I do. You were... what, barely eighteen? Some kids go to get drunk on their birthday, you took an appointment with a shrink. I thought it was cute. And then you walked in."
Changmin bites back the urge to vomit. This is fucked up beyond belief. "You're sick--"
"No, Changmin. You are." His fingers stroke his cheek. "I'm going to recommend you be placed in my private clinic. We'll make you all better."
He shuts his eyes tightly, trying to block out the touch. "Yunho," he whispers, pleads, "Yunho, please..."
A harsh slap to his cheek makes him gasp. "Quit fucking talking about him! Do you see what he's done to you? What he's reduced you to?" Those same caressing fingers wrap around his throat. "You were so beautiful. So young and innocent. You're a pervert, Changmin, you know that? You're a little slut--god, your ass felt good that night." He laughs, dangerous and crazed and Changmin gapes.
"Son of a bitch..." Anger, more than fear, shakes him. "You fucker! Bastard, how could you?"
"I love you, baby."
"You sick fuck," he spits, chest heaving with anger, with betrayal from some he'd trusted with his secrets for years. "You're going to fucking die in jail, you psycho."
His therapist of six years clicks his tongue and steps to the medical cabinet at the far end of the room. "I hoped you wouldn't make me do this. You can be so stubborn, so I suppose it's to be expected..." A syringe is torn from its wrapper, the man rummaging through the cabinet.
Shit. Shit, the fucker is going to drug him. Kill him. God only knows.
Changmin grits his teeth, twists his wrists. One of the restraints is looser than the other.
"I listened to you go on and on about another man for all that time.." the man shakes his head. "Do you know how much that hurt me, Min-ah?" The nickname off the bastard's lips makes Changmin's skin crawl. He clucks his tongue, drawing clear liquid into the syringe and tapping the side, squirting a few drops.
Like a pro.
"I wanted to put a stop to it, of course... but then you gave me such a wonderful opportunity when you told me about his sick fantasies." The man sighs, rolling his head as if to relax coiled muscles.
Changmin tugs on the band around his right arm, jerks it this way and that and grits his teeth. One way or another, he's getting out of this. Even if he has to bite his way through the leather. He didn't fight the first time.
Never again.
"I knew if I just showed you the harm in them, the depravity in them, there was a chance to get you out of his grasp. And that's all I wanted, baby. I promise you."
He draws closer, the damned syringe poised at the ready. It doesn't even matter what it contains anymore. There's only one thing driving Changmin and that's the will to escape.
"It's okay," his therapist smiles, "we'll be together now, won't we? Happily ever after."
Almost close enough...almost...
He waits till the man leans forward, needle poised at the ready, and jerks his hand free.
It's the best right hook he's ever delivered and, simultaneously, the first.
The therapist lumbers back on his feet, dazed, syringe dropping from his hand to the floor and it's enough distraction for Changmin to press the nurse call button erratically, to unplug the heart monitor. Surely someone'll come in then. Surely Yunho--
"You little shit!"
Hands are around his throat then, fear spiking in him white-hot and he slams his fist against the asshole's temple, again and again, the blows growing weaker as spots blossom before his eyes.
History repeats itself, except not quite. Science fiction and common sense have gotten that much right, he thinks dimly, hearing Yunho's voice before he sees him.
Blue sleeves pull the other man off of him, tugging him back until he has no choice but to let go. The first breath of air that enters his lungs is a little like being born again. It would explain why he's crying real tears, jerking his left arm helplessly, torn between wanting to follow the son of a bitch who turned him into this wreck in the first place and wanting to hide himself in Yunho's arms, never to be seen again.
*
The silk is cool and ticklish against his skin, brushing the tips of his ears and teasing at the nape of his neck where the ends of the scarf hang. Warm, strong hands cup his jaw, a mouth meeting his and drowning him in a honey slow kiss, his fingernails digging into heated skin.
The clock is like a metronome in his ears, counting time, increasing anticipation.
He's held tightly, like he might run away and it's always a little funny to note how desperate his lover can be. How utterly out of control. It's amusing and flattering and the only reason he keeps up the teasing when he could just sink down, give them both what they need.
"Love you," he hears muttered in his ear, sweet words destined to weaken his resolve.
"Cheat," he murmurs in reply, the muscles in his thighs twitching from his restraint. A mouth sucks hot and wet at his collarbone, fingers wandering over his spine. It melts him, just a little, just enough for him to sink down an inch, breath catching in his chest.
Short licks against his skin, right above his heart and his lover stops trying to urge him. "Still true," he argues husky and rough with too much foreplay and not enough patience, stroking his hip.
He has to agree, but that doesn't mean he relents. The taste of power is intoxicating, all the more so since he can't see his lover's face, just imagine the heated gaze, the swollen lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Love you back," he stutters out, anticipation warm in his veins. A beat. "Trust you."
Yunho pulls and he pushes and though he can't see, he pictures his lover's eyes, feels the heat of his gaze and lets go.
Of everything.