Or Try Walking in a Straight Line - Oneshot (Yunjae)
Title: Or Try Walking in a Straight Line
Author: kayjayloves
Length: 1/1
Pairing: Yunjae
Band: DBSK/TVXQ/THSK
Genre: angst
Rating: PG
Warning: um, angsty?
Disclaimer: Don't own these people, just my interpretations of them.
Synopsis: now the runway lights are fading/with the darkness overtaking/i'll leave you standing watching all alone/from that paneglass window one million miles away
Comments: for may_song ! thank for letting me randomly spring a fic offer on you xD The lyrics in the synopsis are from All Time Low's Last Flight Home.
The light catches best on the highlights in Jaejoong’s hair like this; he’s all laid out on the bed, features schooled soft-pretty like the sunlight through the window, and click goes the camera. Click. Keep the look in his memory, forever now.
Jaejoong smiles a little, and tells Yunho to leave him alone, he’ll be up soon enough.
(Jaejoong looks the worst in three a.m. flourescent lights, the time of day when fights are tangible and leave bloody scars on fragile hearts. He’s supposed to be helping Yoochun with a composition, but instead he’s telling Yoochun without words to pick up the pieces of him and his dreams - Yoochun can’t. "Hyung," he says, "Go sleep." Please, just, take care of yourself.
Yoochun has a fragmented heart and pain in his fingers, his skin, his soul, and he’s patching himself together with scotch tape, but he runs out before he can get to Jaejoong.)
Jaejoong cooks for all of them like it’s a responsibility his life - his worth, Changmin joked once - depends on. He makes them bibim guksu and patbingsu when it feels too cramped in their dorm in Japan; it tastes like summer and hope and home.
There’s too few thanks and too-tired thoughts most nights, with the five of them bumping elbows around a cramped table until someone starts singing, or someone insults someone, or someone laughs and all the tension is gone. Jaejoong trips picking up dishes and Yunho catches him, and - they both hold their breaths. "Thanks," Jaejoong says.
He walks away beaten down; like maybe he was expecting something.
(Like a perfect housewife, Jaejoong sometimes thinks. Like some parody of a nuclear family - Umma and Appa and their lovely children. Reality shatters fantasy - the kind dreamed up for fans and promotions. No appas, no ummas, just boys who grew up too fast.)
Yunho’s the last one to find him; it’s after Junsu’s tried laughter and Yoochun’s tried empathy and Changmin’s tried wheedling that he stumbles across Jaejoong on the balcony, shivering and breathing out a film of smoke. "Can’t," Jaejoong tells him, without turning around.
Yunho took his given role to heart years ago, named himself Leader and forced into himself all the responsibilities and the hardened thoughts that keep the group stable - the Good of Dong Bang Shin Ki becomes the mantra on the darkest days. And Jaejoong - Jaejoong, like this - shatters something.
"Sorry," Yunho says. "Didn’t realize you were throwing a hissy fit."
He turns around and leaves; Jaejoong’s cigarette stub burns his fingers.
("Am I doing okay?" Yunho asks Junsu once, face intent. Junsu looks at him, mouths ‘what?’ into the midnight air, the tv playing on mute in front of them. "At this-" Yunho gestures around them - to Junsu, to himself, to Jaejoong and Yoochun where they’re dozing on the couch and Changmin at the table with his glasses and calculus. "Us."
"Don’t be stupid," Junsu says, and pokes him - it becomes a hug. "Of course, Leadershii.")
Somehow they stay linked in a confusing chain of dreams and hopes and voices, an entity of one with five separate beings, and really, Jaejoong (or is it Hero) is only a person away from Yunho (U-Know) in this line-up of five. Close enough to share side-subtle glances, far enough to never touch - but they do; they trade friction and fates.
("I think I’m just needing something from him-" Jaejoong is telling his mirrors and the phone in his hand, with the number on speed dial that he’s not going to call.)
(-that I don’t think he could give." Yunho downs the glass in one gulp. "Refill?")
Author: kayjayloves
Length: 1/1
Pairing: Yunjae
Band: DBSK/TVXQ/THSK
Genre: angst
Rating: PG
Warning: um, angsty?
Disclaimer: Don't own these people, just my interpretations of them.
Synopsis: now the runway lights are fading/with the darkness overtaking/i'll leave you standing watching all alone/from that paneglass window one million miles away
Comments: for may_song ! thank for letting me randomly spring a fic offer on you xD The lyrics in the synopsis are from All Time Low's Last Flight Home.
The light catches best on the highlights in Jaejoong’s hair like this; he’s all laid out on the bed, features schooled soft-pretty like the sunlight through the window, and click goes the camera. Click. Keep the look in his memory, forever now.
Jaejoong smiles a little, and tells Yunho to leave him alone, he’ll be up soon enough.
(Jaejoong looks the worst in three a.m. flourescent lights, the time of day when fights are tangible and leave bloody scars on fragile hearts. He’s supposed to be helping Yoochun with a composition, but instead he’s telling Yoochun without words to pick up the pieces of him and his dreams - Yoochun can’t. "Hyung," he says, "Go sleep." Please, just, take care of yourself.
Yoochun has a fragmented heart and pain in his fingers, his skin, his soul, and he’s patching himself together with scotch tape, but he runs out before he can get to Jaejoong.)
Jaejoong cooks for all of them like it’s a responsibility his life - his worth, Changmin joked once - depends on. He makes them bibim guksu and patbingsu when it feels too cramped in their dorm in Japan; it tastes like summer and hope and home.
There’s too few thanks and too-tired thoughts most nights, with the five of them bumping elbows around a cramped table until someone starts singing, or someone insults someone, or someone laughs and all the tension is gone. Jaejoong trips picking up dishes and Yunho catches him, and - they both hold their breaths. "Thanks," Jaejoong says.
He walks away beaten down; like maybe he was expecting something.
(Like a perfect housewife, Jaejoong sometimes thinks. Like some parody of a nuclear family - Umma and Appa and their lovely children. Reality shatters fantasy - the kind dreamed up for fans and promotions. No appas, no ummas, just boys who grew up too fast.)
Yunho’s the last one to find him; it’s after Junsu’s tried laughter and Yoochun’s tried empathy and Changmin’s tried wheedling that he stumbles across Jaejoong on the balcony, shivering and breathing out a film of smoke. "Can’t," Jaejoong tells him, without turning around.
Yunho took his given role to heart years ago, named himself Leader and forced into himself all the responsibilities and the hardened thoughts that keep the group stable - the Good of Dong Bang Shin Ki becomes the mantra on the darkest days. And Jaejoong - Jaejoong, like this - shatters something.
"Sorry," Yunho says. "Didn’t realize you were throwing a hissy fit."
He turns around and leaves; Jaejoong’s cigarette stub burns his fingers.
("Am I doing okay?" Yunho asks Junsu once, face intent. Junsu looks at him, mouths ‘what?’ into the midnight air, the tv playing on mute in front of them. "At this-" Yunho gestures around them - to Junsu, to himself, to Jaejoong and Yoochun where they’re dozing on the couch and Changmin at the table with his glasses and calculus. "Us."
"Don’t be stupid," Junsu says, and pokes him - it becomes a hug. "Of course, Leadershii.")
Somehow they stay linked in a confusing chain of dreams and hopes and voices, an entity of one with five separate beings, and really, Jaejoong (or is it Hero) is only a person away from Yunho (U-Know) in this line-up of five. Close enough to share side-subtle glances, far enough to never touch - but they do; they trade friction and fates.
("I think I’m just needing something from him-" Jaejoong is telling his mirrors and the phone in his hand, with the number on speed dial that he’s not going to call.)
(-that I don’t think he could give." Yunho downs the glass in one gulp. "Refill?")