Second Choices for Happiness (oneshot)
gah gah wtf, I'm meant to be writing 2450203 other things that AREN'T THIS. but hey peeps, look! My first non-YunJae fic. O_O
Title: Second Choices for Happiness
Rating: G
Form: Oneshot
Words: 910
Pairings: JaeChun, unrequited JaeHo
Genre: Introspective
Summary: Jaejoong never 'settled' for a second choice. He just got happiness.
Yoochun was never my second choice.
I don’t think people understand that. Then again, I’m not sure that anyone except the two of us can understand what we are, and even then, the knowledge is a blurry, undefined thing. We just know. And that’s enough.
We’re comfortable. And that’s enough too. As I crawl into bed beside him, curling up against his body, his scent calms me. He smiles at me from over the top of his book, the expression a bit distracted, his eyes intent on getting back to the text. I give him a quick smile back, letting him return to the world inside the pages, not minding that his attention isn’t on me.
Tucking my face against the curved surface of his stomach, I listen to his body working, making him live and breathe, and close my eyes, content. His fingers thread through my hair in a subconscious action, and I relax further.
Sometimes, I think this is where I was always meant to be. This is happiness, and relief and understanding. This is a sweet, soft love, reliable, easy and uncomplicated. This is what I imagine most people crave, dream of, in the long run. Of course, everyone starts out wanting that passionate, fiery, sweep-you-off-your-feet sort of love, where everything is an extreme, exciting and unrelenting. But after that… after the pain and the anguish, you want this sort of love.
So maybe it’s easier, loving your best friend - the other half of yourself, instead of the love of your life. Maybe it’s better, settling for what works rather then what you crave.
I had craved Yunho. For years and years. I still do, I guess. I see him, and I wish I could have him. Wish he would have me, love me, need me. I have a passion for him, a passion that I never quite had for Yoochun. Yoochun is part of my mind, my soul, but Yunho had - has? - my heart and my imagination. I still dream of him sometimes, feel his name on my lips. When I hug him, I get giddy off his scent, his warmth and the glamour of what-ifs.
But unrequited love never produced anything worthwhile. Yunho has never wanted me, not like that anyway, and so my romantic passions and desires mean nothing except pain.
Yoochun had always known of my doomed love though. How could he not? The other half of my soul, he always knew. So when I came to him at night, I was always met with warmth and the steady sureness of his care. And if we shared comfort in the way of sweet, deep kisses and soft caresses rather then hugs and tea, then that was just our way. It seemed natural, and it warmed my soul and stitched the pieces of my heart back together.
I knew that Yunho thought me fickle, but I guess that shows that he never did quite understand me. Doesn’t get that I never just stopped loving him and started loving Yoochun. There is, and always has been, the both of them in my heart. Different, perhaps, in the how they fill that space… but both still there, cherished dearly.
Maybe one day Yoochun will find his Yunho. And maybe that person will return his passion. Sometimes I’m not sure if I wish for that or not. Yoochun should know love. The fiery, romance-novel sort of love. And if his chosen should feel the same, he should experience it too. Feel what love could be like.
I won’t hold him back from that. Just because the love of my life never loved me shouldn’t stop him from finding the love of his life.
If - when? - that time comes, I will move out from this bedroom. There is no room in shared passion for the best friend, something I know all too well. So I will move out from the bedroom. I might move out of the apartment, find my own place. Or else… I don’t know. Maybe I'd move out from myself if that happened.
I bury my nose into the softness of his loose shirt and breathe in his scent. A scent I wear like my own most days. The hand in my hair tightens slightly, and then he’s closing his book, putting it on the bedside table. We slip under the covers together, cozy and snug as the lights go off. He kisses my temple and I hug his waist, pressing my lips to his in a sweet goodnight. The taste of him lingers, mellow like coffee. Yunho was spice and exotic, forbidden fruits. But Yoochun was always mellow and comforting, warm and smooth.
His breathing evens out as I continue to listen to the steady beat of his heart and I think how lucky I am to have found a man that was so much a part of me that I had no need to love him, because we just are. Together.
I could have soared with Yunho. It could have been glorious. But it would have been just as painful and desperate at times, crashing to the ground with no saftey nets at all. The kind of love you’re not sure you could survive. How does it weigh against a low hum of constant happiness? I don’t think they’re comparable.
It’s enough to satisfy me though. And if people look at me with pity sometimes, then it’s because they don’t understand. Life can be happily ever after, or at least, happily in the near forseeable future, without the grand adventure.
There never was a second choice. Just the choice I made. To be happy.
Title: Second Choices for Happiness
Rating: G
Form: Oneshot
Words: 910
Pairings: JaeChun, unrequited JaeHo
Genre: Introspective
Summary: Jaejoong never 'settled' for a second choice. He just got happiness.
Yoochun was never my second choice.
I don’t think people understand that. Then again, I’m not sure that anyone except the two of us can understand what we are, and even then, the knowledge is a blurry, undefined thing. We just know. And that’s enough.
We’re comfortable. And that’s enough too. As I crawl into bed beside him, curling up against his body, his scent calms me. He smiles at me from over the top of his book, the expression a bit distracted, his eyes intent on getting back to the text. I give him a quick smile back, letting him return to the world inside the pages, not minding that his attention isn’t on me.
Tucking my face against the curved surface of his stomach, I listen to his body working, making him live and breathe, and close my eyes, content. His fingers thread through my hair in a subconscious action, and I relax further.
Sometimes, I think this is where I was always meant to be. This is happiness, and relief and understanding. This is a sweet, soft love, reliable, easy and uncomplicated. This is what I imagine most people crave, dream of, in the long run. Of course, everyone starts out wanting that passionate, fiery, sweep-you-off-your-feet sort of love, where everything is an extreme, exciting and unrelenting. But after that… after the pain and the anguish, you want this sort of love.
So maybe it’s easier, loving your best friend - the other half of yourself, instead of the love of your life. Maybe it’s better, settling for what works rather then what you crave.
I had craved Yunho. For years and years. I still do, I guess. I see him, and I wish I could have him. Wish he would have me, love me, need me. I have a passion for him, a passion that I never quite had for Yoochun. Yoochun is part of my mind, my soul, but Yunho had - has? - my heart and my imagination. I still dream of him sometimes, feel his name on my lips. When I hug him, I get giddy off his scent, his warmth and the glamour of what-ifs.
But unrequited love never produced anything worthwhile. Yunho has never wanted me, not like that anyway, and so my romantic passions and desires mean nothing except pain.
Yoochun had always known of my doomed love though. How could he not? The other half of my soul, he always knew. So when I came to him at night, I was always met with warmth and the steady sureness of his care. And if we shared comfort in the way of sweet, deep kisses and soft caresses rather then hugs and tea, then that was just our way. It seemed natural, and it warmed my soul and stitched the pieces of my heart back together.
I knew that Yunho thought me fickle, but I guess that shows that he never did quite understand me. Doesn’t get that I never just stopped loving him and started loving Yoochun. There is, and always has been, the both of them in my heart. Different, perhaps, in the how they fill that space… but both still there, cherished dearly.
Maybe one day Yoochun will find his Yunho. And maybe that person will return his passion. Sometimes I’m not sure if I wish for that or not. Yoochun should know love. The fiery, romance-novel sort of love. And if his chosen should feel the same, he should experience it too. Feel what love could be like.
I won’t hold him back from that. Just because the love of my life never loved me shouldn’t stop him from finding the love of his life.
If - when? - that time comes, I will move out from this bedroom. There is no room in shared passion for the best friend, something I know all too well. So I will move out from the bedroom. I might move out of the apartment, find my own place. Or else… I don’t know. Maybe I'd move out from myself if that happened.
I bury my nose into the softness of his loose shirt and breathe in his scent. A scent I wear like my own most days. The hand in my hair tightens slightly, and then he’s closing his book, putting it on the bedside table. We slip under the covers together, cozy and snug as the lights go off. He kisses my temple and I hug his waist, pressing my lips to his in a sweet goodnight. The taste of him lingers, mellow like coffee. Yunho was spice and exotic, forbidden fruits. But Yoochun was always mellow and comforting, warm and smooth.
His breathing evens out as I continue to listen to the steady beat of his heart and I think how lucky I am to have found a man that was so much a part of me that I had no need to love him, because we just are. Together.
I could have soared with Yunho. It could have been glorious. But it would have been just as painful and desperate at times, crashing to the ground with no saftey nets at all. The kind of love you’re not sure you could survive. How does it weigh against a low hum of constant happiness? I don’t think they’re comparable.
It’s enough to satisfy me though. And if people look at me with pity sometimes, then it’s because they don’t understand. Life can be happily ever after, or at least, happily in the near forseeable future, without the grand adventure.
There never was a second choice. Just the choice I made. To be happy.