Oneshot - Once in a Blue Moon
Title: Once in a Blue Moon
Pairing: Yoochun/Jaejoong
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
3,670 words.
Warning: No capitals because I was lazy. :| Sorry.
A/N: I spent months on this, and now it's finally finished. \o/ Yay! Dedicated to everyone who I love with all my heart. mikiraa and savedby_music especially because you both rock a lot. ♥
Also, the soundtrack for this fic can be found here to download. Please listen to it while reading! :)
i. after the sun sets, the earth is still and quiet. soft layers of dark blue and purple cloud the town like a thin sheet of wrapping paper decorating barren surfaces.
you're lying on the roof, one arm raised towards the sky, tracing outlines of faraway stars and the faded white blur of a moon that once hung proudly on the smooth velvet. the days have been dragging by at a painful pace lately, your heart and mind have sunk to the bottom of a pit somewhere and you’re tired. stress and frustration clawing at you for hours endlessly and you don’t want to deal with any of it. sick of all of this- of money, of family, of life. you want to disappear off the face of this planet, to just leave and never come back. you wonder what might happen. would anyone care? would anyone even notice? maybe it'd be weeks, months, before someone asks about you- a 'park yoochun' that lived in the nearly broken-down house on that quiet neighborhood in a town that nobody's heard the name of.
maybe no one would ask about you at all and you would be forgotten forever, kind of like you never existed. would merely be a figment of the imagination, a song no one knows the words to, a memory nobody remembers.
it’s almost midnight now, your fingers tingling from the cold and your back is aching. time seems to speed up when you're thinking and you lose track of it too easily. 'should head back inside now,' you think to yourself and you sit upright, getting up slowly.
then the wind blows, ruffling tree tops, and it carries whispered secrets (a new beginning).
a stranger walks down the street.
you watch him pace nonchalantly, dressed in black and silver chains, hands tucked away in his pockets. from afar, his bleached hair is the only thing you can make out of him, styled in a complicated disarray. you don't recognize him. in this small town, you know everyone, could recite their life stories from the day they were born, but not him, no, and you find it surprising. no one visits this town. no one bothers to. It’s too old, too small... too empty.
as he gets closer, you observe his side profile with curiosity: pale skin, a pointed nose, a skinny frame, and his voice- it's one like you've never heard, angelic and so beautiful. he hums a sad love song as he makes his way, one you recognize, a melody from long ago. you recall sitting cross-legged on the carpet while your mother played it on the piano, listening intently and memorizing each note. you find yourself humming along.
he turns and acknowledges your presence.
you’re stunned by his beauty. his eyes shine like lighted candles in the dark, hair matching the glow.
it almost seems... unreal.
then he smiles and the world stops spinning, sands of time pausing midway. your breath holds, and your heart skips a few beats. a nod of the head and he continues walking, leaving you dazed, mouth open, and still in awe.
the wind blows again and you blink away the dust in your eyes.
when you open them, the stranger is gone.
ii. the next morning, you wake up shivering beneath the blanket. gray clouds decorate the skies with promises of rain for the rest of the week. you wondered why you were so cold. the air conditioning was turned off and no windows were open.
you shake the thought away because ‘maybe it’s just me’.
iii. you sit by your piano, cold hands placed lightly on white ivory keys, but you’re not playing. your mind is blank, and none of the notes seem to fit together- like a wrong puzzle piece, you just have to pick another and try again.
inspiration is getting harder and harder to come by, you realize. you decide to play one of your older compositions, that one song you sold off to some rich music company and it became a best seller within a matter of days of its release. you were proud, were happy that it succeeded, but you don’t own it anymore. it’s not yours.
you raise your fingers and close the lid on the piano.
iv. there’s a thunderstorm. rain drums against the window pane steadily in a symphony, charging and powerful, and you close your eyes to find the melody, to hear the music it sings. you write lyrics on the window, fingers gliding along cool glass, interpreting the melody they speak into words. you trace the word 'love' slowly, and that's when you spot a figure standing outside.
you couldn’t make out the face, blurred by the storm going on, but you were too distracted by the fact that there is actually someone out there in this kind of weather to care who it was.
you grab the umbrella leaning against the closet and run to the door.
“hey!” you shout. he turns around and you realize that it's him. the stranger with the blond hair.
he’s beginning to walk away-
“hey, you!” you bolt out, rain pelting furiously against your umbrella.
you found yourself gaping at the sight of the man when you catch up to him. words stuck at your throat, your eyes trail up and down his physique and ‘oh my god, he’s not human, is he?’ water is dripping from his hair, clothes, chin, and eyelashes, and it's like he just stepped out of a movie.
“i- uhh… er… you umbrella?” you stutter. "i mean, d-do you need an umbrella?" you hand the handle to him awkwardly, trying a smile.
he’s taken back by your offer, more than he should be, and he hesitates briefly before wrapping his slender fingers around the handle. “thank you,” he mumbles and you see a half smile playing on his lips.
“um, you should dry off, you know. because, well, you’re kind of wet. you’ll catch a cold... and in case you haven't noticed, there's a thunderstorm,” you explained to him, pointing at the sky.
he tips his head to one side and looks so confused. "i- i'm not sure that's..."
"ok, come on," you drag him inside your tiny home. "the shower's over there and i'll get you some dry clothes and towels."
"wait, i-"
"stay right here."
you grab some dry clothes and white towels from your closet and head back to where you left him, still standing and dripping all over your carpet.
"here," you hand the items to him.
he smiles, really smiles, where it touches his eyes and the whole room suddenly becomes brighter. "thank you," and he walks towards the bathroom.
“i’m park yoochun, by the way,” you say.
he turns and says, “kim jaejoong."
that's how it starts.
v. he doesn't tell you much. he's got no money, no place to stay, and all he has are the clothes on his back and the silver cross dangling from his neck. there's something about him that you can't put your finger on, the voice at the back of your head telling you that he's... different. he's not normal. but you brush the thought away because it's quite ridiculous to be thinking that.
you offer him the only other bedroom you have in the house.
"no one's used it in the longest time, so it's kind of dusty..." you say. "but if you need somewhere to sleep, the room's free for you to use."
he shakes his head, "no, i think it's perfect. thank you."
vi. he's looking for something. you can tell as he gazes out the window, watches the rain, and a million different emotions are painted over his pale exterior, worry lines sketching themselves into his skin, a faded smile dancing over his lips, and confusion in his eyes. he taps his fingers against his knee and it looks like he's waiting, counting down minutes and hours and days. but it doesn't make sense to you because who looks for anything in this town? there's nothing, absolutely nothing to look for.
"are you looking for someone here? a relative? a friend?" you ask him over dinner that night. you try to act nonchalantly.
he looks up, and for a second there, you thought you saw fear.
"i... no." he shakes his head.
you nod slowly, "ah..."
"actually, i'm..." he strings his words together slowly. "i don't know what i'm doing here."
"...what do you mean?" you ask.
he sighs. "if i tell you, you'll think i'm crazy."
you shake your head, "of course not."
he forces a smile, "thank you... for everything, yoochun-sshi. really."
he doesn't say another word that night.
vii. "hey," you call out to jaejoong one afternoon.
"yes?" jaejoong peers up from a book you lent to him the other day.
"jaejoong," you say. "i can call you jaejoong right?" you don't wait for an answer. "great! then you can call me yoochun. just yoochun is fine. so anyway, i was wondering if you wanted to come grocery shopping with me today? we're kind of running out of food."
"um..."
"awesome! come on, let's go!" you pull him up from the couch and he looks so confused it's funny. you laugh. "relax!"
he smiles and eases the tense in his shoulders, "right."
you try your best to make conversation. you weren't always so chatty, but around him, you felt that you needed to speak more to fill the silence between the both of you.
"so, what do you like to eat? i'm not really a great cook or anything, but i can try making whatever you like." you say.
"actually, i love to cook," he confesses.
you gasp, "really? w-why didn't you say so earlier?! my cooking is horrible! i'm still in shock that you can put up with it! the only thing i'm decent at making is coffee."
he laughs, "i enjoyed your cooking."
"very funny," you remark. "you should cook for me sometime!"
"sure," he says. "i'd love to."
"and hey," you say friendly. "let's be friends, ok?"
he nods, "yeah. yeah, okay."
a handshake to seal the deal.
viii. you sit in front of the piano, half-finished songs and blank sheets of paper are laid out in front of you and a pencil rests snugly behind an ear. you rest your hand on keys with uncertainty, brows furrowing in concentration, but nothing is coming to mind. no melodies, no music. just white silence that echoes in the room and the pitter-patter of raindrops on the window that you've now grown accustomed to.
"yoochun?" you hear jaejoong calling you from outside.
"in here!" you call out.
he shows up at the doorway with a lacy yellow apron tied around his waist. "i'm cooking tonight, what do-" he stops. "you play the piano?"
"um, yeah." you nod. "...where did you find that?" you point at the apron.
"in the cupboard where you keep expired food."
"oh..." you nod. "right."
he walks towards you and picks up a few sheets lying on the floor. humming quietly, he sings a verse and smiles to himself. "wow. this is really impressive. you wrote this?"
you shrug. "yeah. it's not finished though, like everything else you see here." you point out.
"why don't you finish them?" he asks.
"i can't. nothing comes to mind when i try to."
"hmm..." he makes his way towards you and you make room for him to sit beside you. he takes the invitation and places his slender fingers on the piano, playing the simple melody. you don't know why, but the song sounds so much better when he plays it. it comes to life, almost. the music dances around the both of you and it's sparking magic in the air. it's singing, just like the way you wanted it to.
you watch as he adds improvisations and creates another verse after the one you left unfinished. it sounds perfect and is exactly what you were looking for.
you're gaping with your mouth wide open when he lifts his hands.
"um, sorry, was that really bad?" he asks and chuckles to himself, a little embarrassed.
"are you kidding?" you choke out. "that... that was absolutely amazing."
he laughs. "flattering. i'll go make dinner now. what do you want to eat?"
"i don't mind. whatever you make, i'm fine with."
he stands and puts his hands on his waist, "all right then. i'll see you at the dinner table in an hour."
"it's a date!" you smile.
he catches his laugh with a hand, "it's a date."
once he leaves the room, you find yourself building upon the song you never got around to finishing. adding jaejoong's improvisations and the new verse he created, you dig deeper into the song, looking for the perfect notes that would make the piece.
you find that thinking of jaejoong brings music into you.
and you find yourself in love.
ix. the furious rain has calmed to a light drizzle. you sit on the roof next to jaejoong and feel the cold drops of water dance on your skin. the both of you are drenched, but it doesn't matter. because this scene is beautiful: kim jaejoong. his eyes are closed and his lips are curved with happiness.
"what're you thinking about?" you ask him.
he opens his eyes (you notice the way they sparkle, like the brightest star at the darkest time of night) and laughs. "nothing. i'm just... really happy."
you smile, "good," and takes his hand. "i'm really happy too." i'm really happy with you.
he turns to you, "are you?"
"yeah." you whisper and you hold onto his hand tighter. "i'm really happy. and..."
"and what?" he says softly.
"and... i love you." you say slowly.
he doesn't hesitate awkwardly like you thought he would, nor does he look surprised. instead, he leans towards you and whispers his reply quietly.
"i love you too."
x. it has stopped raining and the sun's warm embrace shines through the window. spring rolled in late this year. there are cherry blossoms blooming all at once, pink and white petals flutter in the air like butterflies in the breeze.
jaejoong wakes you up this morning with a kiss and a cheerful, "yoochun, i want to hear you play a song."
so here you are now, sitting in front of the black grand piano, playing the song that you wrote and he inspired. he hums along as you play, watching you with silent affections and an unfaltering smile.
"i want to write lyrics for that," he wraps his arms around you. "may i?"
you kiss him on the forehead, "of course. the song is yours, after all."
he chuckles, "you're such a romantic."
"and you love me for it," you smile.
he kisses you on the lips, "i love your everything."
xi. jaejoong is missing.
you wake up and expect him to still be asleep beside you, or in the kitchen preparing breakfast, or maybe sitting in front of the piano, writing the lyrics he promised. but he isn't anywhere. you even checked the roof, hoping to find him lying down, enjoying the blue sky and warm sunshine. but he isn't there either.
you know it's childish to cry, but you can't help it. the tears just keep coming and you curl up on your bed, holding onto the pillow he used, the scent still strong, and you are shielding a broken heart. hoping that maybe he'd come back, that maybe he still loves you, that he didn't leave because he didn't anymore.
"jaejoong," you call out with a cracked voice. "jaejoong jaejoong jaejoong..."
the glass shards of your broken heart feel like poison.
xii. a week later, you find him standing in the kitchen, one hand resting on his waist, waiting for the pot of soup to boil. it's like he never left.
"jaejoong?" you gasp.
he turns around and smiles, "morning, sunshine. breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."
you rush towards him and wrap your arms around his body. "why did you leave?" you feel the tears slipping from your eyes. "why didn't you say anything?"
he doesn't say a word and wipes your tears away. "idiot, stop crying. now go sit down."
you hold on to him tighter. "promise me you won't leave again."
he kisses you on the forehead. "i promise i won't leave. now go get ready to eat."
"you'll keep your promise right?" you whisper.
"i've never broken one," he assures you.
breakfast consists of few words. he asks you questions of how you've been but you don't answer, only to reply him with more questions. he sees that you've barely touched your food and takes your hand into his.
"do you trust me?" he asks.
his eyes reflects the emotion you don't want to feel. "i do."
he takes you to the only elementary school there is in the town.
"they have a swing set there," he explains. "i like going on the swings."
you go back and forth silently and watch as he goes higher and higher. you realized then that jaejoong is like a free, untamed animal. he can't be kept in one place all the time. to a free spirit like him, a cage is torture. and you've been his cage, the only thing keeping him from true happiness.
"i'm sorry," you say.
he slows down. "why are you sorry?"
"because... i'm keeping you from what you really want."
he pauses before answering, "what do i really want?"
"happiness."
"yoochun," he says. "yoochun, look at me. i'm happy with you, all right? you're the best thing that's happened to my life and i've never loved anyone this way and you think that you're keeping me from being happy? nothing is your fault, okay? i left because i needed some time for myself. i needed to think. i needed to figure out how i'm going to tell you that-" he stops.
"tell me what?" you ask.
"that..." he sighs. "yoochun, i'm so sorry."
"why?" you whisper. "what's there to be sorry about?"
"i..." he says. "i think it's best that i show you."
the drive is exactly one hour and forty-six minutes long. jaejoong had turned up the music to a maximum volume to fill the silence, but that didn't change anything. you shut the music off angrily.
"where are we going?" you ask.
he doesn't answer and continues to drive.
the car stops at a cemetary. names of the deceased are etched onto tombstones, flowers and the memories laid in front of them. the air screams death and loneliness and everything you hate, everything you want nothing to do with.
"what are we doing here?"
jaejoong doesn't say a word and leads you to the end of a path. there are no tombstones, just pieces of metal stuck into the ground with a names engraved on it. he stops at one.
"there," he points. you're afraid to see what it says, but you look at it anyway.
it reads:
Kim Jaejoong
1986 ~ 2008
it takes you a while to take it in. "w-what? what is this?"
"yoochun." he takes a deep breath. "yoochun, i'm dead. i've been dead for almost a year, but for some unknown reason, you can see me. you're the only person that can see me. and you can touch me and feel me when no one else can. to the rest of the world, i- i don't even exist anymore. i killed myself last year. i-i walked in front of a truck."
you shake your head, tears streaming down your face, "jaejoong. jaejoong, it's ok. it's ok if you don't exist b-because, because you exist in my world."
"no, yoochun. i won't be," he says. "i've already started to fade away."
he shows you his palm, a portion of it has began to disappear. it's as if somebody erased it and never replaced it.
"h-how?" you ask. "how is this happening?"
"i... i found my purpose in this life. i found love. i found you. there's no reason for me to live anymore. and now... i'm fading."
"b-but jaejoong," your voice quivered. "jaejoong, you promised me you wouldn't leave."
"i'm not leaving you, yoochun. i'd never leave you," he says. "i love you too much to-"
"you lied to me!" you sob. "you fucking lied to me!"
"i'm sorry," he says. "i'm sorry, yoochun. i'm so, so sorry." he begins to cry too, "i'm sorry."
xiii. there is a day left, jaejoong estimated. one day left until he's gone. you don't want to think about it. you want to remember this last day happily, with no tears or worries, but with smiles and all the love you can give to him.
"here," he hands you a piece of paper. "it's the lyrics."
you smile, "will you sing it for me?"
"only if you play the song," he says.
you nod, "deal."
xiv. he's almost completely gone, just a thin white shadow and a quiet voice, nothing louder than a whisper. but he still holds that mysterious glow around him, a soft white light, warm and gentle, and that's how you can tell that it's jaejoong.
"we'll always be together," you whisper to him, convincing yourself that it's true, because true love is forever and nothing can come in between it.
"forever," he smiles. "i'll never leave your side. i'll be right here." he holds a hand to your heart and you feel his warmth hovering over your chest.
you nod, forcing yourself to hold back the tears. you know it'd be harder for him to leave if he saw you cry.
"meet you on the other side." he says.
"i'll see you there," you promise.
the wind blows and you close your eyes shut. it carries a whispered "i love you" and leaves a kiss on your cheek.
when you open your eyes, he's gone.
(revised 22/01/10)
Masterlist: here
Pairing: Yoochun/Jaejoong
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
3,670 words.
Warning: No capitals because I was lazy. :| Sorry.
A/N: I spent months on this, and now it's finally finished. \o/ Yay! Dedicated to everyone who I love with all my heart. mikiraa and savedby_music especially because you both rock a lot. ♥
Also, the soundtrack for this fic can be found here to download. Please listen to it while reading! :)
i. after the sun sets, the earth is still and quiet. soft layers of dark blue and purple cloud the town like a thin sheet of wrapping paper decorating barren surfaces.
you're lying on the roof, one arm raised towards the sky, tracing outlines of faraway stars and the faded white blur of a moon that once hung proudly on the smooth velvet. the days have been dragging by at a painful pace lately, your heart and mind have sunk to the bottom of a pit somewhere and you’re tired. stress and frustration clawing at you for hours endlessly and you don’t want to deal with any of it. sick of all of this- of money, of family, of life. you want to disappear off the face of this planet, to just leave and never come back. you wonder what might happen. would anyone care? would anyone even notice? maybe it'd be weeks, months, before someone asks about you- a 'park yoochun' that lived in the nearly broken-down house on that quiet neighborhood in a town that nobody's heard the name of.
maybe no one would ask about you at all and you would be forgotten forever, kind of like you never existed. would merely be a figment of the imagination, a song no one knows the words to, a memory nobody remembers.
it’s almost midnight now, your fingers tingling from the cold and your back is aching. time seems to speed up when you're thinking and you lose track of it too easily. 'should head back inside now,' you think to yourself and you sit upright, getting up slowly.
then the wind blows, ruffling tree tops, and it carries whispered secrets (a new beginning).
a stranger walks down the street.
you watch him pace nonchalantly, dressed in black and silver chains, hands tucked away in his pockets. from afar, his bleached hair is the only thing you can make out of him, styled in a complicated disarray. you don't recognize him. in this small town, you know everyone, could recite their life stories from the day they were born, but not him, no, and you find it surprising. no one visits this town. no one bothers to. It’s too old, too small... too empty.
as he gets closer, you observe his side profile with curiosity: pale skin, a pointed nose, a skinny frame, and his voice- it's one like you've never heard, angelic and so beautiful. he hums a sad love song as he makes his way, one you recognize, a melody from long ago. you recall sitting cross-legged on the carpet while your mother played it on the piano, listening intently and memorizing each note. you find yourself humming along.
he turns and acknowledges your presence.
you’re stunned by his beauty. his eyes shine like lighted candles in the dark, hair matching the glow.
it almost seems... unreal.
then he smiles and the world stops spinning, sands of time pausing midway. your breath holds, and your heart skips a few beats. a nod of the head and he continues walking, leaving you dazed, mouth open, and still in awe.
the wind blows again and you blink away the dust in your eyes.
when you open them, the stranger is gone.
ii. the next morning, you wake up shivering beneath the blanket. gray clouds decorate the skies with promises of rain for the rest of the week. you wondered why you were so cold. the air conditioning was turned off and no windows were open.
you shake the thought away because ‘maybe it’s just me’.
iii. you sit by your piano, cold hands placed lightly on white ivory keys, but you’re not playing. your mind is blank, and none of the notes seem to fit together- like a wrong puzzle piece, you just have to pick another and try again.
inspiration is getting harder and harder to come by, you realize. you decide to play one of your older compositions, that one song you sold off to some rich music company and it became a best seller within a matter of days of its release. you were proud, were happy that it succeeded, but you don’t own it anymore. it’s not yours.
you raise your fingers and close the lid on the piano.
iv. there’s a thunderstorm. rain drums against the window pane steadily in a symphony, charging and powerful, and you close your eyes to find the melody, to hear the music it sings. you write lyrics on the window, fingers gliding along cool glass, interpreting the melody they speak into words. you trace the word 'love' slowly, and that's when you spot a figure standing outside.
you couldn’t make out the face, blurred by the storm going on, but you were too distracted by the fact that there is actually someone out there in this kind of weather to care who it was.
you grab the umbrella leaning against the closet and run to the door.
“hey!” you shout. he turns around and you realize that it's him. the stranger with the blond hair.
he’s beginning to walk away-
“hey, you!” you bolt out, rain pelting furiously against your umbrella.
you found yourself gaping at the sight of the man when you catch up to him. words stuck at your throat, your eyes trail up and down his physique and ‘oh my god, he’s not human, is he?’ water is dripping from his hair, clothes, chin, and eyelashes, and it's like he just stepped out of a movie.
“i- uhh… er… you umbrella?” you stutter. "i mean, d-do you need an umbrella?" you hand the handle to him awkwardly, trying a smile.
he’s taken back by your offer, more than he should be, and he hesitates briefly before wrapping his slender fingers around the handle. “thank you,” he mumbles and you see a half smile playing on his lips.
“um, you should dry off, you know. because, well, you’re kind of wet. you’ll catch a cold... and in case you haven't noticed, there's a thunderstorm,” you explained to him, pointing at the sky.
he tips his head to one side and looks so confused. "i- i'm not sure that's..."
"ok, come on," you drag him inside your tiny home. "the shower's over there and i'll get you some dry clothes and towels."
"wait, i-"
"stay right here."
you grab some dry clothes and white towels from your closet and head back to where you left him, still standing and dripping all over your carpet.
"here," you hand the items to him.
he smiles, really smiles, where it touches his eyes and the whole room suddenly becomes brighter. "thank you," and he walks towards the bathroom.
“i’m park yoochun, by the way,” you say.
he turns and says, “kim jaejoong."
that's how it starts.
v. he doesn't tell you much. he's got no money, no place to stay, and all he has are the clothes on his back and the silver cross dangling from his neck. there's something about him that you can't put your finger on, the voice at the back of your head telling you that he's... different. he's not normal. but you brush the thought away because it's quite ridiculous to be thinking that.
you offer him the only other bedroom you have in the house.
"no one's used it in the longest time, so it's kind of dusty..." you say. "but if you need somewhere to sleep, the room's free for you to use."
he shakes his head, "no, i think it's perfect. thank you."
vi. he's looking for something. you can tell as he gazes out the window, watches the rain, and a million different emotions are painted over his pale exterior, worry lines sketching themselves into his skin, a faded smile dancing over his lips, and confusion in his eyes. he taps his fingers against his knee and it looks like he's waiting, counting down minutes and hours and days. but it doesn't make sense to you because who looks for anything in this town? there's nothing, absolutely nothing to look for.
"are you looking for someone here? a relative? a friend?" you ask him over dinner that night. you try to act nonchalantly.
he looks up, and for a second there, you thought you saw fear.
"i... no." he shakes his head.
you nod slowly, "ah..."
"actually, i'm..." he strings his words together slowly. "i don't know what i'm doing here."
"...what do you mean?" you ask.
he sighs. "if i tell you, you'll think i'm crazy."
you shake your head, "of course not."
he forces a smile, "thank you... for everything, yoochun-sshi. really."
he doesn't say another word that night.
vii. "hey," you call out to jaejoong one afternoon.
"yes?" jaejoong peers up from a book you lent to him the other day.
"jaejoong," you say. "i can call you jaejoong right?" you don't wait for an answer. "great! then you can call me yoochun. just yoochun is fine. so anyway, i was wondering if you wanted to come grocery shopping with me today? we're kind of running out of food."
"um..."
"awesome! come on, let's go!" you pull him up from the couch and he looks so confused it's funny. you laugh. "relax!"
he smiles and eases the tense in his shoulders, "right."
you try your best to make conversation. you weren't always so chatty, but around him, you felt that you needed to speak more to fill the silence between the both of you.
"so, what do you like to eat? i'm not really a great cook or anything, but i can try making whatever you like." you say.
"actually, i love to cook," he confesses.
you gasp, "really? w-why didn't you say so earlier?! my cooking is horrible! i'm still in shock that you can put up with it! the only thing i'm decent at making is coffee."
he laughs, "i enjoyed your cooking."
"very funny," you remark. "you should cook for me sometime!"
"sure," he says. "i'd love to."
"and hey," you say friendly. "let's be friends, ok?"
he nods, "yeah. yeah, okay."
a handshake to seal the deal.
viii. you sit in front of the piano, half-finished songs and blank sheets of paper are laid out in front of you and a pencil rests snugly behind an ear. you rest your hand on keys with uncertainty, brows furrowing in concentration, but nothing is coming to mind. no melodies, no music. just white silence that echoes in the room and the pitter-patter of raindrops on the window that you've now grown accustomed to.
"yoochun?" you hear jaejoong calling you from outside.
"in here!" you call out.
he shows up at the doorway with a lacy yellow apron tied around his waist. "i'm cooking tonight, what do-" he stops. "you play the piano?"
"um, yeah." you nod. "...where did you find that?" you point at the apron.
"in the cupboard where you keep expired food."
"oh..." you nod. "right."
he walks towards you and picks up a few sheets lying on the floor. humming quietly, he sings a verse and smiles to himself. "wow. this is really impressive. you wrote this?"
you shrug. "yeah. it's not finished though, like everything else you see here." you point out.
"why don't you finish them?" he asks.
"i can't. nothing comes to mind when i try to."
"hmm..." he makes his way towards you and you make room for him to sit beside you. he takes the invitation and places his slender fingers on the piano, playing the simple melody. you don't know why, but the song sounds so much better when he plays it. it comes to life, almost. the music dances around the both of you and it's sparking magic in the air. it's singing, just like the way you wanted it to.
you watch as he adds improvisations and creates another verse after the one you left unfinished. it sounds perfect and is exactly what you were looking for.
you're gaping with your mouth wide open when he lifts his hands.
"um, sorry, was that really bad?" he asks and chuckles to himself, a little embarrassed.
"are you kidding?" you choke out. "that... that was absolutely amazing."
he laughs. "flattering. i'll go make dinner now. what do you want to eat?"
"i don't mind. whatever you make, i'm fine with."
he stands and puts his hands on his waist, "all right then. i'll see you at the dinner table in an hour."
"it's a date!" you smile.
he catches his laugh with a hand, "it's a date."
once he leaves the room, you find yourself building upon the song you never got around to finishing. adding jaejoong's improvisations and the new verse he created, you dig deeper into the song, looking for the perfect notes that would make the piece.
you find that thinking of jaejoong brings music into you.
and you find yourself in love.
ix. the furious rain has calmed to a light drizzle. you sit on the roof next to jaejoong and feel the cold drops of water dance on your skin. the both of you are drenched, but it doesn't matter. because this scene is beautiful: kim jaejoong. his eyes are closed and his lips are curved with happiness.
"what're you thinking about?" you ask him.
he opens his eyes (you notice the way they sparkle, like the brightest star at the darkest time of night) and laughs. "nothing. i'm just... really happy."
you smile, "good," and takes his hand. "i'm really happy too." i'm really happy with you.
he turns to you, "are you?"
"yeah." you whisper and you hold onto his hand tighter. "i'm really happy. and..."
"and what?" he says softly.
"and... i love you." you say slowly.
he doesn't hesitate awkwardly like you thought he would, nor does he look surprised. instead, he leans towards you and whispers his reply quietly.
"i love you too."
x. it has stopped raining and the sun's warm embrace shines through the window. spring rolled in late this year. there are cherry blossoms blooming all at once, pink and white petals flutter in the air like butterflies in the breeze.
jaejoong wakes you up this morning with a kiss and a cheerful, "yoochun, i want to hear you play a song."
so here you are now, sitting in front of the black grand piano, playing the song that you wrote and he inspired. he hums along as you play, watching you with silent affections and an unfaltering smile.
"i want to write lyrics for that," he wraps his arms around you. "may i?"
you kiss him on the forehead, "of course. the song is yours, after all."
he chuckles, "you're such a romantic."
"and you love me for it," you smile.
he kisses you on the lips, "i love your everything."
xi. jaejoong is missing.
you wake up and expect him to still be asleep beside you, or in the kitchen preparing breakfast, or maybe sitting in front of the piano, writing the lyrics he promised. but he isn't anywhere. you even checked the roof, hoping to find him lying down, enjoying the blue sky and warm sunshine. but he isn't there either.
you know it's childish to cry, but you can't help it. the tears just keep coming and you curl up on your bed, holding onto the pillow he used, the scent still strong, and you are shielding a broken heart. hoping that maybe he'd come back, that maybe he still loves you, that he didn't leave because he didn't anymore.
"jaejoong," you call out with a cracked voice. "jaejoong jaejoong jaejoong..."
the glass shards of your broken heart feel like poison.
xii. a week later, you find him standing in the kitchen, one hand resting on his waist, waiting for the pot of soup to boil. it's like he never left.
"jaejoong?" you gasp.
he turns around and smiles, "morning, sunshine. breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."
you rush towards him and wrap your arms around his body. "why did you leave?" you feel the tears slipping from your eyes. "why didn't you say anything?"
he doesn't say a word and wipes your tears away. "idiot, stop crying. now go sit down."
you hold on to him tighter. "promise me you won't leave again."
he kisses you on the forehead. "i promise i won't leave. now go get ready to eat."
"you'll keep your promise right?" you whisper.
"i've never broken one," he assures you.
breakfast consists of few words. he asks you questions of how you've been but you don't answer, only to reply him with more questions. he sees that you've barely touched your food and takes your hand into his.
"do you trust me?" he asks.
his eyes reflects the emotion you don't want to feel. "i do."
he takes you to the only elementary school there is in the town.
"they have a swing set there," he explains. "i like going on the swings."
you go back and forth silently and watch as he goes higher and higher. you realized then that jaejoong is like a free, untamed animal. he can't be kept in one place all the time. to a free spirit like him, a cage is torture. and you've been his cage, the only thing keeping him from true happiness.
"i'm sorry," you say.
he slows down. "why are you sorry?"
"because... i'm keeping you from what you really want."
he pauses before answering, "what do i really want?"
"happiness."
"yoochun," he says. "yoochun, look at me. i'm happy with you, all right? you're the best thing that's happened to my life and i've never loved anyone this way and you think that you're keeping me from being happy? nothing is your fault, okay? i left because i needed some time for myself. i needed to think. i needed to figure out how i'm going to tell you that-" he stops.
"tell me what?" you ask.
"that..." he sighs. "yoochun, i'm so sorry."
"why?" you whisper. "what's there to be sorry about?"
"i..." he says. "i think it's best that i show you."
the drive is exactly one hour and forty-six minutes long. jaejoong had turned up the music to a maximum volume to fill the silence, but that didn't change anything. you shut the music off angrily.
"where are we going?" you ask.
he doesn't answer and continues to drive.
the car stops at a cemetary. names of the deceased are etched onto tombstones, flowers and the memories laid in front of them. the air screams death and loneliness and everything you hate, everything you want nothing to do with.
"what are we doing here?"
jaejoong doesn't say a word and leads you to the end of a path. there are no tombstones, just pieces of metal stuck into the ground with a names engraved on it. he stops at one.
"there," he points. you're afraid to see what it says, but you look at it anyway.
it reads:
Kim Jaejoong
1986 ~ 2008
it takes you a while to take it in. "w-what? what is this?"
"yoochun." he takes a deep breath. "yoochun, i'm dead. i've been dead for almost a year, but for some unknown reason, you can see me. you're the only person that can see me. and you can touch me and feel me when no one else can. to the rest of the world, i- i don't even exist anymore. i killed myself last year. i-i walked in front of a truck."
you shake your head, tears streaming down your face, "jaejoong. jaejoong, it's ok. it's ok if you don't exist b-because, because you exist in my world."
"no, yoochun. i won't be," he says. "i've already started to fade away."
he shows you his palm, a portion of it has began to disappear. it's as if somebody erased it and never replaced it.
"h-how?" you ask. "how is this happening?"
"i... i found my purpose in this life. i found love. i found you. there's no reason for me to live anymore. and now... i'm fading."
"b-but jaejoong," your voice quivered. "jaejoong, you promised me you wouldn't leave."
"i'm not leaving you, yoochun. i'd never leave you," he says. "i love you too much to-"
"you lied to me!" you sob. "you fucking lied to me!"
"i'm sorry," he says. "i'm sorry, yoochun. i'm so, so sorry." he begins to cry too, "i'm sorry."
xiii. there is a day left, jaejoong estimated. one day left until he's gone. you don't want to think about it. you want to remember this last day happily, with no tears or worries, but with smiles and all the love you can give to him.
"here," he hands you a piece of paper. "it's the lyrics."
you smile, "will you sing it for me?"
"only if you play the song," he says.
you nod, "deal."
xiv. he's almost completely gone, just a thin white shadow and a quiet voice, nothing louder than a whisper. but he still holds that mysterious glow around him, a soft white light, warm and gentle, and that's how you can tell that it's jaejoong.
"we'll always be together," you whisper to him, convincing yourself that it's true, because true love is forever and nothing can come in between it.
"forever," he smiles. "i'll never leave your side. i'll be right here." he holds a hand to your heart and you feel his warmth hovering over your chest.
you nod, forcing yourself to hold back the tears. you know it'd be harder for him to leave if he saw you cry.
"meet you on the other side." he says.
"i'll see you there," you promise.
the wind blows and you close your eyes shut. it carries a whispered "i love you" and leaves a kiss on your cheek.
when you open your eyes, he's gone.
(revised 22/01/10)
Masterlist: here