iv. Abstractness
i. Abstract | ii. Too Abstract | iii. Abstraction
Abstractness
Junsu had tried to stay away. He told himself that it was the end, the end of his pain, the end of his façade. The end of playing a saint while he was everything but. The end, the end, the end.
But it wasn't the end. It couldn't be. He couldn't lose Yoochun, he couldn't cut him out of his life, he was his life. He was his everything, including a burden.
Junsu ended up begging Yoochun's therapist to talk to him and make him understand that he didn't want to lose him.
What Junsu didn't expect was that Yoochun would end up being afraid of him after what had happened.
“Untrustworthy. You are untrustworthy.”
Junsu could have cried. It took him so long to get to the point they were on. To the point of holding hands, kissing and even more. And just like that he had blown it. Yoochun wouldn't look at him anymore because he changed his hair. He cursed himself for changing it now. He had been so convinced that he could stay away from Yoochun forever after that and dyed his hair back to his original colour as to say that what Yoochun thought or felt didn't care matter more, Yoochun didn't exist anymore. In his head he had been harsh.
Don't let that retard ruin your life. You don't need him. He's good for nothing. Forget him, he told himself. Only to be so angry with himself afterwards he had picked up a knife and slashed his thigh open. No one talks about Yoochun like that and doesn't pay the price.
The fear in Yoochun's eyes and words was enough to drive Junsu into desperation. He never wanted this. He never wanted to hurt him; he never wanted to scare him. Why did it end up like this? Why couldn't Junsu just keep his hands too himself? Too selfish. He was too selfish. Yoochun was attractive. People often stared at him on the streets making him clearly more uncomfortable than he already was. Junsu felt good walking next to him when that happened, holding his hand as to say 'look at what I got, he's completely normal, and a fucking stud'.
Only to get home and to sit with two feet in between them and their hands in the middle while Yoochun made a sudoku or some other cognitive puzzle in silence. Junsu was selfish, he was proud, he was horny, he was insecure, he was angry, he was sad, he was happy...he was human.
“Junsu.”
“Yes? Yes, Yoochun, what is it? What can I do for you?”
“You are sitting on my jacket. I would like to put it on because it's getting cold. Would you please give it back to me so that I can put it on?”
“Oh shit, of course.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“No.”
“I'll get you anything you want. Do you want an ice cream cone? The stand is right over there. I can get you your favourite.”
“I do not want an ice cream cone.”
“Then what do you want, Yoochun? You just want to sit here?”
“I want a dog.”
“It's not strange for people with autism to have animals. You can take care of a do quite well actually. You're structural. And the dog could be good for you. It could take away your fear of being outside alone for too long. Also giving you the care over a dog could give you the sense of independence. I say go for it.”
Yoochun's therapist spoke to Yoochun but it was clear that what he said was meant for Yoochun's mother who was sitting next to him. Junsu sat in the back of the room, wondering how on earth Yoochun could take care of a dog when he could barely take care of himself.
A puppy was a bad idea, the therapist said. Puppies are wild and unpredictable. Yoochun's mother got a trained dog and Junsu was taken aback at how comfortable Yoochun was with it from the very beginning. He could touch it. Yoochun could touch a dog. Yoochun could touch a dog and not him.
“Why do you like that thing so much?”
“What thing?”
“That dog.”
“Things are inanimate objects. A dog is a living thing.”
“Why do you like that dog so much?”
“Because it cannot lie to me and it will not hurt me because it is trained and without me to give it water and food it will eventually die.”
“I'd die without you too.”
“But you can get food and water for yourself.”
“You're special, Yoochun.”
“I have autism.”
“You are amazing.”
“I need to feed the dog.”
“Let me kiss you.”
“I need to feed the dog.”
“Yoochun, please-”
“I need to feed the dog.”
Six months later they could finally walk hand in hand again and Junsu could have cried out in happiness when they got home and Junsu asked for a kiss and Yoochun said: “Will you stop when I ask you to stop?”
“Yes,” Junsu answered. “Yes, I promise. Please.”
“I will poke your hand three times while we kiss and after the third poke you must immediately stop kissing,” Yoochun said.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“May I kiss you right now?”
“Yes.”
Junsu pressed their lips together gently and he felt Yoochun's nail dig into his palm softly. He moved his lips and Yoochun poked him again. It took Yoochun longer to poke him a third time.
“Thank you,” Junsu said. “I missed kissing you so much. Thank you. I promise I'll do anything you want me to do. Just let me kiss you sometimes.”
“I want to go inside now. Will you go with me?”
“Yes, of course. Yes.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“...May I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“What made you want to kiss me again?”
“You started smelling like morning dew and violets again.”
“Do you still think that love smells like morning dew and violets?”
“I don't know.”
“Do you like me again?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You don't touch me without asking anymore and you don't lie. And you smell like morning dew and violets. And you look sad sometimes and I don't like that and my therapist said that that meant that I like you.”
“I owe your therapist my life.”
“How can you owe my therapist your life? You cannot give away your life because life is an abstract thing.”
“I gave you my life.”
“I want to make math problems now.”
“Give me one last kiss and I'll leave you to do your math problems.”
“Okay.”