Fanfic : We Are Not Done Yet
Title : We Are Not Done Yet
Pairing : HoMin (Yunho/Homin)
Genre : Angst, Fluff, Romance
Length : One-shot
Rating : PG-13
Warning : Un-betaed
Summary : I said softly to myself, "Oh, yes you will. Because you and I are not done yet."
A/N : this fic is specially written for my beloved greese_gurei :)
i'm sorry to all of you who think i've made your f-page full with my fics *i've posted too many fics today* XD
comments = ♥(s) like always~
[Changmin POV]
As I turned the corner I saw Yunho standing outside of the coffee shop, waiting for me. My stomach flipped and I tried to picture what he looked like the last time I saw him, ten years ago. Back then he had been skinny and lanky. Now he was still long and lean, but manly and masculine. He now had the body of a man, not a boy. He still had brown hair, no grey in sight. He was wearing glasses, which he hadn't had the last time I saw him. His button-down shirt was starched and he had the sleeves rolled up to mid forearm. He no longer had the body of a twenty-year-old. He looked good. Damn he looked good. There he was -my college sweetheart. I had hoped to meet him inside. My heart had been pounding since I had started getting dressed that morning. I was nervous and anxious. I wanted to breathe in as much air as I could before finally standing in front of him. But he watched me cross the parking lot and instead of taking air into my lungs, I felt it all rush out.
Our eyes met as I walked up to him and he smiled as we reached out to hug each other. We went inside and ordered our drinks, then found a table. We talked about old times, and we talked about what each of us had been doing over the past thirty years. He said he couldn't remember the last time we had seen each other. I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Good, since the last time we were together I had told him that I couldn't see him any longer -a fact I'd just as soon he forgot. Or bad, because he didn't remember much about 'us'. He asked how long we had dated. Was he asking to see if I remembered? Was he asking because he simply couldn't remember? Was he trying to find out how important our relationship had been to me? Or was he telling me that it was unimportant to him? How could he forget that we had two wonderful years together?
As he talked I was watching his mouth, and his hands, and ten years dissolved into thin air and I was back in the bedroom of his college apartment. He had picked me up at my dorm and had driven us to his apartment thirty miles away. It was the first time we would spend the night together and the air inside that car was electric. We were both giddy with excitement as we fell through his apartment door. I remember how tall he was. I remember his strong jaw that I loved to touch and his beautiful mouth that I loved to kiss. I remember his thick hair that never seemed messy. And I remember his hands. Oh, the things he had done with those hands!
His voice brought me back to the coffee house. He was asking me a question, but I hadn't heard it. I was back in his apartment, ten years ago, snuggled in his arms. I brought my mind back to the present.
"I asked where your son is today," he repeated.
"He went out of town for a few days. He went on a fishing trip with my dad," I told him.
Yunho’s eyes bore into mine and I knew he was trying to judge whether I had meant that as an invitation to him, or if I was merely answering his question. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure what I had meant by that answer either. When we arranged to meet for coffee I was hoping that he had changed. I was hoping he was a different person than he had been when I was so in love with him. I wanted him to be different so that I could put my feelings for him aside, and stop the "what if" thinking that had been going on in my mind for years. But he hadn't changed, and I still felt a pull towards him. My nervousness had disappeared quickly. I couldn't believe how comfortable I was sitting there talking to him after ten years. I was afraid that I would be a fidgety mess talking to him, but we fell back into our old friendship right away. We had been best friends as well as lovers all those years ago. It was nice talking with this friend again. I had missed our friendship and his love. I had thought of him often over the years. My marriage hadn't turned out to be as blissfully happy as I had imagined it would be. There had been so many times I had wondered if I had made a huge mistake when I stopped seeing him in order to date and eventually marry my wife.
My parents had never liked him. My mother had been very vocal in her feelings and had effectively campaigned against him. Looking back on it, we never stood a chance, although I do have to take responsibility for my decision. Whether I made my decision due to her manipulations or the attention I was getting from the woman whom I would marry, I'll never know. But I'll always wonder. We had almost become engaged, he and I. He had told me that he wanted me in his living room, in his kitchen, in his bedroom; he had said he wanted me in his life, he wanted me for his future and forever. It wasn't a formal proposal but it was perfect and I'll always remember that summer night so long ago, when he had said those things to me and I had told him that was what I wanted too.
We talked for three hours that afternoon at the coffee shop. He told me about his divorce to his wife, he told me about his daughter, and about his work. He talked in a matter of fact sort of way about her. I was looking for something in his eyes that would tell me that he was madly in love with his wife but I didn't see it. He didn't go into much detail about her, but at one point in talking about her, his voice kind of trailed off and he finally said, "Yeah, she's alright." The tone of his voice suggested that maybe she wasn't "alright". Maybe something was missing. Maybe he wanted more, in the same ways that I wanted more from a marriage.
I kept telling him that I didn’t want to monopolize his afternoon. It was in fact a work-day for him. But each time he brushed my protests aside and insisted he wanted to stay there talking to me. His cell phone rang a number of times. Each time he checked it but let it go to voice mail. He answered his phone only once, and I heard him greet the caller, "Hey Grace". I remembered how he used to call his little nephew "Grace" and I wasn't surprised when he disconnected the call told me that it had been his daughter on the phone. At one point someone sat down at a table very close to ours and he suggested that we move to a table outside. It was a beautiful day and we sat in the area behind the shop at a table under a tree and continued to talk and laugh and catch up. Everything about him was so familiar, yet so foreign. He still had a habit of scratching his head. He still used the same expressions. He had the same sense of humor. But he had lived for ten years without me. He wasn't a twenty-year-old kid anymore -he was a man. He had had a kid himself, and three different careers.
As we talked, little bits of our history together flashed through my mind's eye. I thought of the first time he had kissed me, so tender and sweet on a warm evening in July. I could tell he was nervous when he walked me to the door. He turned and asked if he could kiss me and then he put his hands around my face and he had slowly, sensuously pressed his lips to mine.
I thought of us cuddled together on the couch under a blanket watching movies and feeding each other popcorn.
I thought of the times we tried to study together but ended up giving in to our passion.
I thought of the weekends I used to spend at his apartment, and of the time he had taken me back to my school after a long weekend together. I had ended up staying an extra night because we wanted to be with each other so much. He had driven me back in the early morning so I could catch an eight o'clock class. The drive back had been quiet, both of us dreading our having to part. The sun was coming up when I got out of the car. I looked back at him through tears in my eyes and I saw that he too was fighting back tears. I still remember that look on his face that told me how much he missed me already.
I thought of how we used to sleep together in his single bed but didn't mind because even in a huge bed we would have ended up snuggled up together.
I thought of the time I drove him home in a hard rainstorm. Daniel Bedingfield's ‘If You Are Not The One’ was on the radio. As I stopped the car he had turned to me and said that he didn't know how our story would end but he knew for sure that he would never love anyone like this again. The look in his eyes told me that we had something special. I could still see him running through the rain to his front door, while Daniel Bedingfield belted out his song.
I sat there with him now, fighting the memories of the past. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, but I didn't have the nerve to be so bold. He was a married man and I was also a married man. I had thrown away what he had together once and we had both lived our lives apart. Ten years was a long time. Maybe he didn't find me attractive any more. Maybe he didn't remember how in love we once had been. Maybe it didn't matter since we were both married to other people.
All too soon it was time to go. The afternoon had flown by. Three hours had seemed like one. As I followed him through the coffee house and out the door, my eyes fell on his small face, and I thought of that sweet spot on his face -a small mole above his upper lip. I remembered lying in bed one time, caressing that mole after i kissed him, and telling him it was my favorite mole on his body.
As we got to the door he turned to say something to me. He saw me looking at his lips and he gave me a shy smile. I didn't want him to go, but I didn't know what to say to keep him with me, so we hugged good-bye, promised to keep in touch, and we each walked to our cars.
Across the parking lot he yelled, "I'll see you again Min!"
I said softly to myself, "Oh, yes you will. Because you and I are not done yet."
The End
Pairing : HoMin (Yunho/Homin)
Genre : Angst, Fluff, Romance
Length : One-shot
Rating : PG-13
Warning : Un-betaed
Summary : I said softly to myself, "Oh, yes you will. Because you and I are not done yet."
A/N : this fic is specially written for my beloved greese_gurei :)
i'm sorry to all of you who think i've made your f-page full with my fics *i've posted too many fics today* XD
comments = ♥(s) like always~
[Changmin POV]
As I turned the corner I saw Yunho standing outside of the coffee shop, waiting for me. My stomach flipped and I tried to picture what he looked like the last time I saw him, ten years ago. Back then he had been skinny and lanky. Now he was still long and lean, but manly and masculine. He now had the body of a man, not a boy. He still had brown hair, no grey in sight. He was wearing glasses, which he hadn't had the last time I saw him. His button-down shirt was starched and he had the sleeves rolled up to mid forearm. He no longer had the body of a twenty-year-old. He looked good. Damn he looked good. There he was -my college sweetheart. I had hoped to meet him inside. My heart had been pounding since I had started getting dressed that morning. I was nervous and anxious. I wanted to breathe in as much air as I could before finally standing in front of him. But he watched me cross the parking lot and instead of taking air into my lungs, I felt it all rush out.
Our eyes met as I walked up to him and he smiled as we reached out to hug each other. We went inside and ordered our drinks, then found a table. We talked about old times, and we talked about what each of us had been doing over the past thirty years. He said he couldn't remember the last time we had seen each other. I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Good, since the last time we were together I had told him that I couldn't see him any longer -a fact I'd just as soon he forgot. Or bad, because he didn't remember much about 'us'. He asked how long we had dated. Was he asking to see if I remembered? Was he asking because he simply couldn't remember? Was he trying to find out how important our relationship had been to me? Or was he telling me that it was unimportant to him? How could he forget that we had two wonderful years together?
As he talked I was watching his mouth, and his hands, and ten years dissolved into thin air and I was back in the bedroom of his college apartment. He had picked me up at my dorm and had driven us to his apartment thirty miles away. It was the first time we would spend the night together and the air inside that car was electric. We were both giddy with excitement as we fell through his apartment door. I remember how tall he was. I remember his strong jaw that I loved to touch and his beautiful mouth that I loved to kiss. I remember his thick hair that never seemed messy. And I remember his hands. Oh, the things he had done with those hands!
His voice brought me back to the coffee house. He was asking me a question, but I hadn't heard it. I was back in his apartment, ten years ago, snuggled in his arms. I brought my mind back to the present.
"I asked where your son is today," he repeated.
"He went out of town for a few days. He went on a fishing trip with my dad," I told him.
Yunho’s eyes bore into mine and I knew he was trying to judge whether I had meant that as an invitation to him, or if I was merely answering his question. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure what I had meant by that answer either. When we arranged to meet for coffee I was hoping that he had changed. I was hoping he was a different person than he had been when I was so in love with him. I wanted him to be different so that I could put my feelings for him aside, and stop the "what if" thinking that had been going on in my mind for years. But he hadn't changed, and I still felt a pull towards him. My nervousness had disappeared quickly. I couldn't believe how comfortable I was sitting there talking to him after ten years. I was afraid that I would be a fidgety mess talking to him, but we fell back into our old friendship right away. We had been best friends as well as lovers all those years ago. It was nice talking with this friend again. I had missed our friendship and his love. I had thought of him often over the years. My marriage hadn't turned out to be as blissfully happy as I had imagined it would be. There had been so many times I had wondered if I had made a huge mistake when I stopped seeing him in order to date and eventually marry my wife.
My parents had never liked him. My mother had been very vocal in her feelings and had effectively campaigned against him. Looking back on it, we never stood a chance, although I do have to take responsibility for my decision. Whether I made my decision due to her manipulations or the attention I was getting from the woman whom I would marry, I'll never know. But I'll always wonder. We had almost become engaged, he and I. He had told me that he wanted me in his living room, in his kitchen, in his bedroom; he had said he wanted me in his life, he wanted me for his future and forever. It wasn't a formal proposal but it was perfect and I'll always remember that summer night so long ago, when he had said those things to me and I had told him that was what I wanted too.
We talked for three hours that afternoon at the coffee shop. He told me about his divorce to his wife, he told me about his daughter, and about his work. He talked in a matter of fact sort of way about her. I was looking for something in his eyes that would tell me that he was madly in love with his wife but I didn't see it. He didn't go into much detail about her, but at one point in talking about her, his voice kind of trailed off and he finally said, "Yeah, she's alright." The tone of his voice suggested that maybe she wasn't "alright". Maybe something was missing. Maybe he wanted more, in the same ways that I wanted more from a marriage.
I kept telling him that I didn’t want to monopolize his afternoon. It was in fact a work-day for him. But each time he brushed my protests aside and insisted he wanted to stay there talking to me. His cell phone rang a number of times. Each time he checked it but let it go to voice mail. He answered his phone only once, and I heard him greet the caller, "Hey Grace". I remembered how he used to call his little nephew "Grace" and I wasn't surprised when he disconnected the call told me that it had been his daughter on the phone. At one point someone sat down at a table very close to ours and he suggested that we move to a table outside. It was a beautiful day and we sat in the area behind the shop at a table under a tree and continued to talk and laugh and catch up. Everything about him was so familiar, yet so foreign. He still had a habit of scratching his head. He still used the same expressions. He had the same sense of humor. But he had lived for ten years without me. He wasn't a twenty-year-old kid anymore -he was a man. He had had a kid himself, and three different careers.
As we talked, little bits of our history together flashed through my mind's eye. I thought of the first time he had kissed me, so tender and sweet on a warm evening in July. I could tell he was nervous when he walked me to the door. He turned and asked if he could kiss me and then he put his hands around my face and he had slowly, sensuously pressed his lips to mine.
I thought of us cuddled together on the couch under a blanket watching movies and feeding each other popcorn.
I thought of the times we tried to study together but ended up giving in to our passion.
I thought of the weekends I used to spend at his apartment, and of the time he had taken me back to my school after a long weekend together. I had ended up staying an extra night because we wanted to be with each other so much. He had driven me back in the early morning so I could catch an eight o'clock class. The drive back had been quiet, both of us dreading our having to part. The sun was coming up when I got out of the car. I looked back at him through tears in my eyes and I saw that he too was fighting back tears. I still remember that look on his face that told me how much he missed me already.
I thought of how we used to sleep together in his single bed but didn't mind because even in a huge bed we would have ended up snuggled up together.
I thought of the time I drove him home in a hard rainstorm. Daniel Bedingfield's ‘If You Are Not The One’ was on the radio. As I stopped the car he had turned to me and said that he didn't know how our story would end but he knew for sure that he would never love anyone like this again. The look in his eyes told me that we had something special. I could still see him running through the rain to his front door, while Daniel Bedingfield belted out his song.
I sat there with him now, fighting the memories of the past. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, but I didn't have the nerve to be so bold. He was a married man and I was also a married man. I had thrown away what he had together once and we had both lived our lives apart. Ten years was a long time. Maybe he didn't find me attractive any more. Maybe he didn't remember how in love we once had been. Maybe it didn't matter since we were both married to other people.
All too soon it was time to go. The afternoon had flown by. Three hours had seemed like one. As I followed him through the coffee house and out the door, my eyes fell on his small face, and I thought of that sweet spot on his face -a small mole above his upper lip. I remembered lying in bed one time, caressing that mole after i kissed him, and telling him it was my favorite mole on his body.
As we got to the door he turned to say something to me. He saw me looking at his lips and he gave me a shy smile. I didn't want him to go, but I didn't know what to say to keep him with me, so we hugged good-bye, promised to keep in touch, and we each walked to our cars.
Across the parking lot he yelled, "I'll see you again Min!"
I said softly to myself, "Oh, yes you will. Because you and I are not done yet."
The End