Round 1, Challenge #4: "matches"
Title: matches
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 548
Summary: Drunken encounters!
Warnings: None
tuesday 1:46am
There are two boys on the couch and only one of them is okay. He buries his nose in the other’s jet-black hair, smells night and expensive girls’ shampoo. He is not the leader like this. Jaejoong’s breath is acidic with alcohol and words that meant nothing, words that the leader will forget but the man will not.
“Jaejoong?”
The TV flickers on mute, rubbing shadows on Jaejoong’s face. It’s strangely calm. Just Jaejoong’s weight, his breath, a package of wreckage wrapped up with a bow.
“Jaejoong?”
Shh.
If cameras had their way, he would slip his arms under Jaejoong’s back and knees, lifting him tenderly from the couch and carrying him to his bed, wishing him well with a chaste kiss to the cheek.
But there are no cameras, and he is not strong. Jaejoong sleeps on the couch.
wednesday 6:12am
Yunho stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. The kitchen light is on. “Who’s awake?” He squints, adjusting to the light.
“Just me.” Jaejoong is bustling around the kitchen, spatula in his hand. “Everyone else is still sleeping, right?”
“Yeah.” Yunho glances at the clock. “We don’t have to get up for another twenty minutes.”
“So why are you up, Leader?” Jaejoong smirks, waggling his spatula at Yunho.
“I always get up first. Shut up. I’m gonna make a cup of coffee.”
Yunho is nursing a mug of coffee (black, strong, and the first of many) when Jaejoong sets a plate in front of him. It’s scrambled eggs.
“Hm?”
“Eggs with orange zest. Your favorite, right?” Jaejoong pops a slice of orange into his mouth and holds up the grated peel like a hunter with his prize kill.
“Yeah, definitely,” Yunho mumbles through a mouthful of eggs. “What’s the occasion? You never make special breakfasts.”
“Just, uh,” Jaejoong’s eyes turn to his hands, “Thanks for taking care of me the other night when I was smashed. Sorry if I said anything horrible, you know I didn’t mean it, that’s just, how I get or something, I don’t know-“
“I know, Jae.” Yunho cuts him off. “Don’t worry about it, we all fuck up. What are friends for?”
Jaejoong breathes again. He cracks a smile. “Thanks, Yunho. I don’t know where I’d be without you. Now give me some of those eggs.”
Yeah, where would you be? Where would I be?
tuesday sometime between 10:00pm and 1:00am
Jaejoong’s hands are so warm Yunho worries he will set the car on fire.
“Yuu-uunho,” Jaejoong sing-songs as he leans the passenger seat back. Night makes the details fuzzy, but Yunho sees the dip of Jaejoong’s waistline, the curve of his throat, the hands like spiders traveling over his thigh.
“Yeah?” Jaejoong’s fingers burn him through the denim.
“Thanks for getting me.”
“No problem.”
At red lights lips touch Yunho’s neck.
friday 4:37 am
He isn’t like the girls that scream your name, with their short skirts and their flower barrettes, his nails aren’t done and his curves are questionable. But his lips are soft and somehow he has pushed his hands into your throat and wrapped them around your heart; he has felt it beat between his fingers. He has whispered your name in his sleep and broken promises he never really made.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 548
Summary: Drunken encounters!
Warnings: None
tuesday 1:46am
There are two boys on the couch and only one of them is okay. He buries his nose in the other’s jet-black hair, smells night and expensive girls’ shampoo. He is not the leader like this. Jaejoong’s breath is acidic with alcohol and words that meant nothing, words that the leader will forget but the man will not.
“Jaejoong?”
The TV flickers on mute, rubbing shadows on Jaejoong’s face. It’s strangely calm. Just Jaejoong’s weight, his breath, a package of wreckage wrapped up with a bow.
“Jaejoong?”
Shh.
If cameras had their way, he would slip his arms under Jaejoong’s back and knees, lifting him tenderly from the couch and carrying him to his bed, wishing him well with a chaste kiss to the cheek.
But there are no cameras, and he is not strong. Jaejoong sleeps on the couch.
wednesday 6:12am
Yunho stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. The kitchen light is on. “Who’s awake?” He squints, adjusting to the light.
“Just me.” Jaejoong is bustling around the kitchen, spatula in his hand. “Everyone else is still sleeping, right?”
“Yeah.” Yunho glances at the clock. “We don’t have to get up for another twenty minutes.”
“So why are you up, Leader?” Jaejoong smirks, waggling his spatula at Yunho.
“I always get up first. Shut up. I’m gonna make a cup of coffee.”
Yunho is nursing a mug of coffee (black, strong, and the first of many) when Jaejoong sets a plate in front of him. It’s scrambled eggs.
“Hm?”
“Eggs with orange zest. Your favorite, right?” Jaejoong pops a slice of orange into his mouth and holds up the grated peel like a hunter with his prize kill.
“Yeah, definitely,” Yunho mumbles through a mouthful of eggs. “What’s the occasion? You never make special breakfasts.”
“Just, uh,” Jaejoong’s eyes turn to his hands, “Thanks for taking care of me the other night when I was smashed. Sorry if I said anything horrible, you know I didn’t mean it, that’s just, how I get or something, I don’t know-“
“I know, Jae.” Yunho cuts him off. “Don’t worry about it, we all fuck up. What are friends for?”
Jaejoong breathes again. He cracks a smile. “Thanks, Yunho. I don’t know where I’d be without you. Now give me some of those eggs.”
Yeah, where would you be? Where would I be?
tuesday sometime between 10:00pm and 1:00am
Jaejoong’s hands are so warm Yunho worries he will set the car on fire.
“Yuu-uunho,” Jaejoong sing-songs as he leans the passenger seat back. Night makes the details fuzzy, but Yunho sees the dip of Jaejoong’s waistline, the curve of his throat, the hands like spiders traveling over his thigh.
“Yeah?” Jaejoong’s fingers burn him through the denim.
“Thanks for getting me.”
“No problem.”
At red lights lips touch Yunho’s neck.
friday 4:37 am
He isn’t like the girls that scream your name, with their short skirts and their flower barrettes, his nails aren’t done and his curves are questionable. But his lips are soft and somehow he has pushed his hands into your throat and wrapped them around your heart; he has felt it beat between his fingers. He has whispered your name in his sleep and broken promises he never really made.