[FIC] Never Again Part 16
Title: Never Again
Parts: 16/?
Rating: PG-13, AU
Pairing: YunJaeHo, Yoosu, Jaechun (friendship)
Disclaimers and warnings: I don’t own TVXQ. Character death.
Chapter:01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.
There was such a thing, Jaejoong thought, as absolute cruelty. And it existed as dreams, showing things that never were.
Yoochun read through the script in his hands, his lips turned up into a relaxed smile.
Jaejoong watched him with wary, but greedy eyes, as he had for the last three days. Or what passed as three days in this world he had woken up in. He blanked out often, and the next thing he knew, night had turned into a new day, and Yoochun had yet to disappear like smoke before his eyes.
Yoochun had said that he had come in and out of consciousness several times. That an accident during his own stunt had landed him there. It had been raining and things happened when it rained. But he couldn’t remember any of it, and for good reason, Jaejoong thought, as there was nothing to remember. This world was only make-believe. Just cardboard walls, painted windows, and artificial sunlight.
Yoochun turned another page.
“Orders are you’ll have to stay for a few more days just to make sure nothing else is wrong. I don’t see what the big deal is. You’ll get your memories back. And if you don’t…” Yoochun shrugged, “Trust me, you’re not gonna miss them. It was ugly.”
He paused then, as if jolted by a thought, and looked up from the script quickly, “Hey, you remember me, right?”
Jaejoong nodded stiffly.
“Oh, good. Then that’s all that matters!” Yoochun smacked the bound papers against his lap. His smile, disarming.
Jaejoong stared at Yoochun’s fingers, noting how the tips got pink from holding onto the script too hard. That as much as he looked, Yoochun was not transparent as ghosts were said to be.
“J-Junsu,”
“Hm?” Yoochun opened the script once again, looking for the page he last read.
“Where’s Junsu?” Jaejoong clarified.
“Filming. Where else? He was by a couple of times, but you know how it is, time is money.”
“Yeah,” Jaejoong opened and closed his fist. Just one hand, the other one hurt too much to move. His right arm was broken.
“You okay, hyung? You’ve been….weird.” Yoochun looked at him worriedly.
“I hurt like hell.” But he didn’t say it was only imaginary pain, because these bandages covered fake wounds. Soot for the bruises, ketchup for the blood.
“Right. That makes sense.” Yoochun said, but thought about it again. “No, I mean,” He stood up, the legs of his chair scraping across the floor.
Jaejoong watched him warily, holding his breath.
When Yoochun reached out to touch his shoulder, Jaejoong backed away.
Yoochun looked hurt, but that’s okay, Jaejoong thought, because the dead can’t feel.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Yoochun asked, baffled by his actions.
Jaejoong gritted his teeth. He shook his head. “I’m not.”
“…Then,”
Yoochun sat on the bed carefully, hand seconds away from Jaejoong’s thigh.
Panic bubbled up Jaejoong’s throat, clogging it, expanding into the width, and it became hard to breathe.
Yoochun was too close.
Jaejoong clutched at his chest, no air was coming in. There was a loud humming in his ear, like open car windows or beating wings. Dark spots flashed in his vision. He tried to blink them away. Yoochun called out to him, but all Jaejoong heard were crashing waves and distant ships.
Yoochun reached out in concern.
Jaejoong’s eyes widened. “Don’t…” He gasped, glaring sharply at Yoochun.
But Yoochun had always been stubborn.
“Don’t touch me!” Jaejoong screamed, the words bursting from his lips.
Yoochun froze, his hand suspended in mid-air.
“But, hyung…” Then very slowly, his fingers curled in and he dropped his hand.
Jaejoong caught his breath. Concentrated on breathing normally. Breathing in, breathing out.
“W-why not?” Yoochun asked instead.
Jaejoong gulped in air and gasped it out. He shut his eyes tightly, held onto the blanket and took comfort in its solidness. ‘Because you’re going to disappear’, was all Jaejoong could think.
Jaejoong clutched his head, a pulsing headache had formed. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.
“Hyung…” Yoochun said with a touch of desperation in his voice. “Did something happen?”
Even imaginary, it hurt to treat Yoochun this way. Even imaginary, he should cherish it, tell him what was important.
Jaejoong lifted his head and met with Yoochun’s uncertain gaze. He parted his lips, but was unable to say anything in the end. Which one of those parting words: ‘I’m sorry’, ‘I love you’, ‘good bye’, were the magic words that would break the spell?
“Hyung?”
Jaejoong shook his head. Just a little more.
Yoochun retreated to his seat and watched him worriedly.
Jaejoong crossed his arms over his chest, holding the feelings in. He watched Yoochun, just as he had done in the last three days.
Like curling clouds of steam, the wind was warm against his face. Jaejoong sat on a wheelchair and Yoochun stood behind him. The hospital’s garden was filled with sunlight. It was spring, instead of the last days of autumn. The air smelled like the ocean, but Yoochun said they were in the middle of the city.
He turned his head to look back at Yoochun.
Yoochun had been watching him, but had not attempted to touch him again.
Jaejoong turned back to the sunlit garden. He lifted his hand. It was drenched in golden light. He closed his hand. The sun was warm against his skin.
In this world where time stopped when he closed his eyes and time began once he had opened them again, Jaejoong wondered how long he had until the last grain of sand slipped through the hour glass’ narrow neck.
He didn’t know which scared him more, that any minute now time may run out or that the next minute will be followed by another, and then another.
He had become unsure. When before he was certain that this world was just a dream, every day that passed worked to convince him otherwise.
In this world, Yunho’s touch and Changmin’s laughter…
But…
He glanced to the side, at Yoochun’s hand on the handle bars of his wheelchair.
But.
Jaejoong woke up to find the seat beside his bed empty, but on his bedside table, a note said:
“Getting breakfast, Be right back. Yoochun.”
He reached for the note and was unable to suppress the foolish grin on his face. He tucked the note under his pillow as the grin settled into a tender smile.
He wanted to stay within that tender smile forever.
“A cupcake!” Yoochun laughed. “And the award for the best original idea for a birthday present goes to…” He drum-rolled.
Jaejoong frowned. “Hey, at least I got you something. That had been a busy month for us.”
Yoochun grinned. “You got that right. I didn’t even know it was my birthday until you reminded me.”
Jaejoong smiled softly at the memory. They sat under the shade of one of the large trees in the garden. It was too hot under the sun. The sweat made his wounds itch. Yoochun sat beside him on a stone bench, their shoulders seconds and eternities apart.
He gazed sidelong at Yoochun, watching him. He noted how his eyes became mere slits when he laughed, noticed the little crinkle at the side of his eyes, and how his shoulders drew up like he couldn’t help it.
Jaejoong played with the fraying edge of his cast. Rolling the bits of plaster he managed to tear out of the whole between his fingertips.
“Your birthday is coming up isn’t it?” He flicked the small ball of plaster away. “I’ll make a real cake this time.”
Yoochun tilted his head up to the sky like he was waiting for something.
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” A tiny chuckle rolled out from his lips. “I almost forgot again.” He sighed and sat back. “A real cake, huh? You sure you could manage, though?” Yoochun tore his eyes away from the slowly darkening sky and looked pointedly at his cast.
Jaejoong gripped the white shell around his injured arm. “I’ll have help.”
Yoochun smiled at him fondly. “Me?”
A lone raindrop burst against Jaejoong’s arm and was soon followed by another, until his cast was as rain-spotted as the ground around them. Although the sky had darkened, the sun still shone from behind the cover of a few clouds. The water droplets looked like golden needles falling from the sky. And despite their fiery tinge, the water was cool against his skin.
“Wow, a sunshower.” Yoochun stood up and held his hand out to catch the sunlit rain.
Yoochun watched the sky and Jaejoong watched Yoochun. He took in every detail, every drop of rain that spotted his shirt, that ran down his cheeks, that bounced off the tips of his hair. Yoochun’s back to him, outlined by the grayish-golden sky…
“We should get you inside, hyung.” Yoochun said. He was smiling, but once he’d faced Jaejoong fully, the smile disappeared. He quickly kneeled down in front of him. His hands curled into nervous fists.
“Hyung?”
A tiny crease appeared between Yoochun’s eyebrows. Jaejoong raised his hand and then curling his fingers in, dropped it on his lap. A raindrop rolled down his cheek.
Yoochun bit his lip thoughtfully and then squared his shoulders. He raised his hand up slowly just as Jaejoong had, giving Jaejoong plenty of time to stop him or to move away.
Jaejoong sat still.
Yoochun’s fingers touched his cheek-the part that was directly connected to his heart. His thumb ran across the skin there and wiped away the tears that had started to mix in with the cool rain.
“Hey…” Yoochun smiled softly, “Are you okay?”
Jaejoong covered Yoochun’s hand with his and touched empty air.
It was raining outside when he opened his eyes. It was raining, and it was autumn, and Yoochun was still dead.
The rain continued to pour down the mountain the next morning. Yunho had said it wasn’t safe to travel down due to the slippery slopes and muddy treks.
Jaejoong knew this too, as he had a chance to see them for himself that morning, when the light in the sky was but a faint glow and the trees and rocks were mere glimmering, shadowy figures to his adjusting eyes.
Restless after his dream, he had wanted to walk if off of his system. The wet weather only stopped him long enough to grab one of the coats off a hook by the front door. In his haste, he had forgotten his shoes and that was when he had encountered the muddy ground and the tiny streams Yunho now spoke of. The doughy earth molded against his feet, cold water surging between his toes. However, he only got so far as a few steps beyond the gate--his freezing fingers stark white against the black bark of a tree--until he felt the urge to go back. It hadn’t been the rain that stopped him from going into the soaked forest, it had been the image of Yoochun’s sweet smile and the syrupy grip of guilt that stopped him in his tracks.
Drenched to his skin, he returned to the tiny house.
Changmin waited for him at the doorstep with a towel and a strong embrace. It seemed the other man was a very light sleeper.
He told Jaejoong later on, once he had bathed and was dry, about how convenient the forest was for getting rid of images of the past. The branches, twigs, and rocks pulled and ripped at the pictures in one’s mind at a run, and for a while, the mind became clear. But once the running stopped, the images were quick to catch up…
“…And then not only are you lost in the forest, but you’re miserable too.” Changmin had said as he handed Jaejoong a hot cup of tea with a sympathetic smile on his face.
At that time, watching Changmin’s profile lit by the slowly waking flames of the stove, Jaejoong had missed him, as if it had been days instead of just a few hours that he had last seen him. And as Junsu and Yunho emerged from the bedroom and into the open space of the kitchen, he realized that he had missed them too.
The day, time seemed to stand still now. The waiting feeling was gone. He was fighting it, but reality was--trickling and spiraling into a narrow point--slowly sinking in.
Jaejoong stood by the open window of the bedroom, his breath condensing in the air. On the floor, by his feet, were the futons they had slept on, sheets still strewn across them. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his fingers digging into his biceps as he glared at the bleak outdoors. He felt unsettled, as if he had left a part of himself somewhere and he came back incomplete. He squeezed his arm tighter and then stopped, still feeling like he shouldn’t add anymore to his injuries.
There was only a light drizzling now. The heavy clouds still hung overhead as if resting, taking a long, indrawn breath before it started shedding water onto the earth again. The rain had left the scenery grey, stripping it off of its colors. It wasn’t a gray Jaejoong liked. It reminded him of bones and ashes. It was the kind of gray found in cemeteries, on gravestones, washed gray by time.
From below him, the stench of decaying leaves rose from the ground. It threatened the memories of fragrant spring flowers that still lingered in his nostrils. He covered his nose with his hand quickly and turned his back on the gray landscape. He wanted gold inlaid into the rain. He wanted the scent of the sea.
Jaejoong laid down on the futon and pulled the heavy blankets over him. In the semi-darkness, he feared falling asleep and dreaming, and not finding the right one.
He had no idea how long he stayed under the covers, but Junsu found him after a while to invite him out.
“Hyung,”
“…Yeah,” His voice sounded weird underneath, as if it didn’t make it out.
“We’re gonna get some fresh air. Changmin says you can see the fishes in the streams really well after the rain.”
Jaejoong hugged the pillow to his chest.
“Go on without me.”
“You sure? Don’t you want to see something else? I mean this house is nice and all, but staring at the same ceiling and walls is getting pretty boring.” Junsu insisted.
Jaejoong stared at the wall of fabric in front of him.
“I’ll see you later, Junsu.”
But instead of leaving, Jaejoong heard him approach and then Junsu’s hand was slipping inside the covers and landing softly on his forehead.
“What’s the matter? You’re not feeling well?”
Jaejoong covered Junsu’s hand with his. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. Want me to stay with you?”
Jaejoong shook his head. “No, just go Junsu. Have fun. Don’t fall into the water.”
Junsu laughed. “I’ll try. You sure you don’t want to come?”
“Yeah.”
Junsu hesitated for a bit and then Jaejoong heard his footsteps as he walked away.
A few minutes later, footsteps approached the bedroom once more. Jaejoong wondered if Junsu decided to stay with him in the end.
He didn’t move, just stayed still until he could feel the person stand over him, and then sit beside his futon. A gentle hand touched the fabric covering his shoulder searchingly, and then it slid down his arm and rested about where his hand was.
Jaejoong’s hand twitched and then slowly slipped out from under the blankets. His fingers curled in as it was exposed to the air. He had forgotten how cold it was beyond the sheets. A second further and he encountered Yunho’s fingers. Almost shyly, as if it had been a while since he had held him, Jaejoong intertwined their fingers together. It had been the first time, ever since he had woken from his dream that Jaejoong had felt a bit grounded, anchored in real time.
“Junsu-sshi had closed the door before I could get out. I think that meant I should stay here with you.” Yunho said after a while. “That or he just doesn’t like me.”
Jaejoong smiled against the pillow. “He likes you.”
“Oh,” Yunho’s thumb stroked the back of his hand. “I feel better now.”
Jaejoong chuckled softly.
“How about you, Jaejoong-sshi? How are you feeling?”
Jaejoong stared at the slim line of light at the blanket’s edge, at his arm sticking out of it.
“A little better…” He said truthfully.
“Glad to hear it.” Yunho squeezed his hand. “So, will I get to see the rest of you now? Maybe catch up to Changmin and Junsu-sshi?”
Jaejoong shook his head. “I like it in here.”
It had been one of Yoochun’s habits he had picked up. Yoochun hid in closets and under the blankets when he had needed a world of his own for a duration of time. Jaejoong would usually find him in those cramp spaces and join him…
“…Then,” Yunho lifted the edge of the blanket a slice. “You got room for one more?”
Jaejoong’s eyes widened and his hand shook in Yunho’s grip. A tiny smile pushed past his lips. He took a deep breath and pulled Yunho inside.
It took a while to orient themselves. With two of them under the covers, the edges of the sheets lifted with their movements and cold air got in.
Jaejoong was used to sharing the bed. Junsu was a messy sleeper and ate up so much space that Jaejoong could never forget he was alone. But with Junsu, their bodies, legs, hips, arms, touching wasn’t a big deal. With Yunho, it was different.
Yunho chuckled as he grabbed the edge of the sheets on his side as it lifted once again. As for Jaejoong, he had placed the edge of the sheet on his side under his body to pin it down and lay sideways parallel to Yunho. He watched Yunho try to find a better way of not letting the cold air in for a few more seconds, before grabbing the front of his shirt and had him lie closer. After that, the cold air stopped seeping inside.
“Sorry, about that.”
“S’okay, I needed some fresh air anyway.”
Yunho held up the roof of fabric and peered at him.
“Nice place you got here.”
“Thanks. It’s small and cramped, but it’s going to be home for today.”
Yunho rested the side of his head comfortably on the pillow and met his gaze in the semi-darkness.
“You’re planning on staying here all day?”
“Possibly longer.”
“All night then?”
“Maybe forever.”
Yunho raised an eyebrow.
“With occasional trips to the bathroom and kitchen, of course.”
Yunho grinned. “You know, it might be cold and a little gray out there, but it’s not that bad.”
Jaejoong shook his head. “It’s nicer in here.”
Yunho looked around. “It is, but it might get boring eventually.”
“You can visit me from time to time.”
“What? Like, ‘hi, neighbor, got some sugar under there?’”
“Sorry, try the kitchen.”
“Okay, so I can’t ask for things,” Yunho said thoughtfully. “Except for a pillow maybe.”
“Try bringing something instead.”
“I could bring flowers.” Yunho suggested.
“I’ll need a vase.”
“I could bring that too.”
Their smiles mirrored one another.
“What if…” Yunho’s gaze flicked away for a second, but returned with a kind of stubborn determination. “What if I wanted to take you out?”
Jaejoong blinked in surprise. The air inside the sheets seemed suddenly warmer than before. “You don’t have to take me out.” He whispered, feeling around for words. “This could be our first date.”
Yunho’s lips curled up into a pleased smile. “Interesting place for our first date.”
“Nothing much to do though.” Jaejoong smiled apologetically.
“What are you talking about? There are plenty of things to do under here.” Yunho smirked.
“Like?” Jaejoong felt his heart in his throat, it was hard to swallow, kind of hard to think too when Yunho was this close.
“Don’t know about you,” Yunho murmured. “But the first thing that comes to mind would be…”
Yunho shifted closer. Jaejoong held his breath. Yunho held out his hand. Jaejoong stared at it.
“Rock, paper, or scissors?” Yunho asked seriously.
Jaejoong blinked. And blinked again.
There was a small tugging at the corner of Yunho’s lips and Jaejoong burst out laughing. He covered his mouth with his arms, flailing, as his shoulders shook uncontrollably. Yunho was laughing too, his voice ringing true and making everything it bounced off of more solid, less transparent, less dreamlike to Jaejoong.
Jaejoong could feel himself becoming heavier too, more solid against the futon, until the very tips of his fingers tingled with feeling, and he could no longer smell spring flowers, and feel blinded by cloudless skies, and he was able to move his arm freely because all this time, it hadn’t been broken.
The laughter faded from his lips slowly and Jaejoong stared unseeingly at the blanket Yunho held up. He glanced from the blanket to Yunho who looked down at him worriedly.
“Are you okay, Jaejoong-sshi?” Yunho asked softly.
Jaejoong felt the hot trail of tears slide down his hairline, right above his ears.
The dream, like every day that passed, every minute, and every second, was gone, and Jaejoong felt the great distance between here and Yoochun stretch onward. On and on.
He drew his hand up and wiped the tears away.
“Yeah,”
Yunho looked unconvinced.
He reached up then, and cupped Yunho’s face in his hands. He took comfort in the solidness of Yunho’s jaw, in the realness of his skin, in his capable warmth. Jaejoong pulled Yunho downward and shivered at the meeting of their lips.
The sheets slipped from Yunho’s shoulders and let the cold air and gray light in.
~TBC
Thank you for reading.
Parts: 16/?
Rating: PG-13, AU
Pairing: YunJaeHo, Yoosu, Jaechun (friendship)
Disclaimers and warnings: I don’t own TVXQ. Character death.
Chapter:01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.
There was such a thing, Jaejoong thought, as absolute cruelty. And it existed as dreams, showing things that never were.
Yoochun read through the script in his hands, his lips turned up into a relaxed smile.
Jaejoong watched him with wary, but greedy eyes, as he had for the last three days. Or what passed as three days in this world he had woken up in. He blanked out often, and the next thing he knew, night had turned into a new day, and Yoochun had yet to disappear like smoke before his eyes.
Yoochun had said that he had come in and out of consciousness several times. That an accident during his own stunt had landed him there. It had been raining and things happened when it rained. But he couldn’t remember any of it, and for good reason, Jaejoong thought, as there was nothing to remember. This world was only make-believe. Just cardboard walls, painted windows, and artificial sunlight.
Yoochun turned another page.
“Orders are you’ll have to stay for a few more days just to make sure nothing else is wrong. I don’t see what the big deal is. You’ll get your memories back. And if you don’t…” Yoochun shrugged, “Trust me, you’re not gonna miss them. It was ugly.”
He paused then, as if jolted by a thought, and looked up from the script quickly, “Hey, you remember me, right?”
Jaejoong nodded stiffly.
“Oh, good. Then that’s all that matters!” Yoochun smacked the bound papers against his lap. His smile, disarming.
Jaejoong stared at Yoochun’s fingers, noting how the tips got pink from holding onto the script too hard. That as much as he looked, Yoochun was not transparent as ghosts were said to be.
“J-Junsu,”
“Hm?” Yoochun opened the script once again, looking for the page he last read.
“Where’s Junsu?” Jaejoong clarified.
“Filming. Where else? He was by a couple of times, but you know how it is, time is money.”
“Yeah,” Jaejoong opened and closed his fist. Just one hand, the other one hurt too much to move. His right arm was broken.
“You okay, hyung? You’ve been….weird.” Yoochun looked at him worriedly.
“I hurt like hell.” But he didn’t say it was only imaginary pain, because these bandages covered fake wounds. Soot for the bruises, ketchup for the blood.
“Right. That makes sense.” Yoochun said, but thought about it again. “No, I mean,” He stood up, the legs of his chair scraping across the floor.
Jaejoong watched him warily, holding his breath.
When Yoochun reached out to touch his shoulder, Jaejoong backed away.
Yoochun looked hurt, but that’s okay, Jaejoong thought, because the dead can’t feel.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Yoochun asked, baffled by his actions.
Jaejoong gritted his teeth. He shook his head. “I’m not.”
“…Then,”
Yoochun sat on the bed carefully, hand seconds away from Jaejoong’s thigh.
Panic bubbled up Jaejoong’s throat, clogging it, expanding into the width, and it became hard to breathe.
Yoochun was too close.
Jaejoong clutched at his chest, no air was coming in. There was a loud humming in his ear, like open car windows or beating wings. Dark spots flashed in his vision. He tried to blink them away. Yoochun called out to him, but all Jaejoong heard were crashing waves and distant ships.
Yoochun reached out in concern.
Jaejoong’s eyes widened. “Don’t…” He gasped, glaring sharply at Yoochun.
But Yoochun had always been stubborn.
“Don’t touch me!” Jaejoong screamed, the words bursting from his lips.
Yoochun froze, his hand suspended in mid-air.
“But, hyung…” Then very slowly, his fingers curled in and he dropped his hand.
Jaejoong caught his breath. Concentrated on breathing normally. Breathing in, breathing out.
“W-why not?” Yoochun asked instead.
Jaejoong gulped in air and gasped it out. He shut his eyes tightly, held onto the blanket and took comfort in its solidness. ‘Because you’re going to disappear’, was all Jaejoong could think.
Jaejoong clutched his head, a pulsing headache had formed. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.
“Hyung…” Yoochun said with a touch of desperation in his voice. “Did something happen?”
Even imaginary, it hurt to treat Yoochun this way. Even imaginary, he should cherish it, tell him what was important.
Jaejoong lifted his head and met with Yoochun’s uncertain gaze. He parted his lips, but was unable to say anything in the end. Which one of those parting words: ‘I’m sorry’, ‘I love you’, ‘good bye’, were the magic words that would break the spell?
“Hyung?”
Jaejoong shook his head. Just a little more.
Yoochun retreated to his seat and watched him worriedly.
Jaejoong crossed his arms over his chest, holding the feelings in. He watched Yoochun, just as he had done in the last three days.
Like curling clouds of steam, the wind was warm against his face. Jaejoong sat on a wheelchair and Yoochun stood behind him. The hospital’s garden was filled with sunlight. It was spring, instead of the last days of autumn. The air smelled like the ocean, but Yoochun said they were in the middle of the city.
He turned his head to look back at Yoochun.
Yoochun had been watching him, but had not attempted to touch him again.
Jaejoong turned back to the sunlit garden. He lifted his hand. It was drenched in golden light. He closed his hand. The sun was warm against his skin.
In this world where time stopped when he closed his eyes and time began once he had opened them again, Jaejoong wondered how long he had until the last grain of sand slipped through the hour glass’ narrow neck.
He didn’t know which scared him more, that any minute now time may run out or that the next minute will be followed by another, and then another.
He had become unsure. When before he was certain that this world was just a dream, every day that passed worked to convince him otherwise.
In this world, Yunho’s touch and Changmin’s laughter…
But…
He glanced to the side, at Yoochun’s hand on the handle bars of his wheelchair.
But.
Jaejoong woke up to find the seat beside his bed empty, but on his bedside table, a note said:
“Getting breakfast, Be right back. Yoochun.”
He reached for the note and was unable to suppress the foolish grin on his face. He tucked the note under his pillow as the grin settled into a tender smile.
He wanted to stay within that tender smile forever.
“A cupcake!” Yoochun laughed. “And the award for the best original idea for a birthday present goes to…” He drum-rolled.
Jaejoong frowned. “Hey, at least I got you something. That had been a busy month for us.”
Yoochun grinned. “You got that right. I didn’t even know it was my birthday until you reminded me.”
Jaejoong smiled softly at the memory. They sat under the shade of one of the large trees in the garden. It was too hot under the sun. The sweat made his wounds itch. Yoochun sat beside him on a stone bench, their shoulders seconds and eternities apart.
He gazed sidelong at Yoochun, watching him. He noted how his eyes became mere slits when he laughed, noticed the little crinkle at the side of his eyes, and how his shoulders drew up like he couldn’t help it.
Jaejoong played with the fraying edge of his cast. Rolling the bits of plaster he managed to tear out of the whole between his fingertips.
“Your birthday is coming up isn’t it?” He flicked the small ball of plaster away. “I’ll make a real cake this time.”
Yoochun tilted his head up to the sky like he was waiting for something.
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” A tiny chuckle rolled out from his lips. “I almost forgot again.” He sighed and sat back. “A real cake, huh? You sure you could manage, though?” Yoochun tore his eyes away from the slowly darkening sky and looked pointedly at his cast.
Jaejoong gripped the white shell around his injured arm. “I’ll have help.”
Yoochun smiled at him fondly. “Me?”
A lone raindrop burst against Jaejoong’s arm and was soon followed by another, until his cast was as rain-spotted as the ground around them. Although the sky had darkened, the sun still shone from behind the cover of a few clouds. The water droplets looked like golden needles falling from the sky. And despite their fiery tinge, the water was cool against his skin.
“Wow, a sunshower.” Yoochun stood up and held his hand out to catch the sunlit rain.
Yoochun watched the sky and Jaejoong watched Yoochun. He took in every detail, every drop of rain that spotted his shirt, that ran down his cheeks, that bounced off the tips of his hair. Yoochun’s back to him, outlined by the grayish-golden sky…
“We should get you inside, hyung.” Yoochun said. He was smiling, but once he’d faced Jaejoong fully, the smile disappeared. He quickly kneeled down in front of him. His hands curled into nervous fists.
“Hyung?”
A tiny crease appeared between Yoochun’s eyebrows. Jaejoong raised his hand and then curling his fingers in, dropped it on his lap. A raindrop rolled down his cheek.
Yoochun bit his lip thoughtfully and then squared his shoulders. He raised his hand up slowly just as Jaejoong had, giving Jaejoong plenty of time to stop him or to move away.
Jaejoong sat still.
Yoochun’s fingers touched his cheek-the part that was directly connected to his heart. His thumb ran across the skin there and wiped away the tears that had started to mix in with the cool rain.
“Hey…” Yoochun smiled softly, “Are you okay?”
Jaejoong covered Yoochun’s hand with his and touched empty air.
It was raining outside when he opened his eyes. It was raining, and it was autumn, and Yoochun was still dead.
The rain continued to pour down the mountain the next morning. Yunho had said it wasn’t safe to travel down due to the slippery slopes and muddy treks.
Jaejoong knew this too, as he had a chance to see them for himself that morning, when the light in the sky was but a faint glow and the trees and rocks were mere glimmering, shadowy figures to his adjusting eyes.
Restless after his dream, he had wanted to walk if off of his system. The wet weather only stopped him long enough to grab one of the coats off a hook by the front door. In his haste, he had forgotten his shoes and that was when he had encountered the muddy ground and the tiny streams Yunho now spoke of. The doughy earth molded against his feet, cold water surging between his toes. However, he only got so far as a few steps beyond the gate--his freezing fingers stark white against the black bark of a tree--until he felt the urge to go back. It hadn’t been the rain that stopped him from going into the soaked forest, it had been the image of Yoochun’s sweet smile and the syrupy grip of guilt that stopped him in his tracks.
Drenched to his skin, he returned to the tiny house.
Changmin waited for him at the doorstep with a towel and a strong embrace. It seemed the other man was a very light sleeper.
He told Jaejoong later on, once he had bathed and was dry, about how convenient the forest was for getting rid of images of the past. The branches, twigs, and rocks pulled and ripped at the pictures in one’s mind at a run, and for a while, the mind became clear. But once the running stopped, the images were quick to catch up…
“…And then not only are you lost in the forest, but you’re miserable too.” Changmin had said as he handed Jaejoong a hot cup of tea with a sympathetic smile on his face.
At that time, watching Changmin’s profile lit by the slowly waking flames of the stove, Jaejoong had missed him, as if it had been days instead of just a few hours that he had last seen him. And as Junsu and Yunho emerged from the bedroom and into the open space of the kitchen, he realized that he had missed them too.
The day, time seemed to stand still now. The waiting feeling was gone. He was fighting it, but reality was--trickling and spiraling into a narrow point--slowly sinking in.
Jaejoong stood by the open window of the bedroom, his breath condensing in the air. On the floor, by his feet, were the futons they had slept on, sheets still strewn across them. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his fingers digging into his biceps as he glared at the bleak outdoors. He felt unsettled, as if he had left a part of himself somewhere and he came back incomplete. He squeezed his arm tighter and then stopped, still feeling like he shouldn’t add anymore to his injuries.
There was only a light drizzling now. The heavy clouds still hung overhead as if resting, taking a long, indrawn breath before it started shedding water onto the earth again. The rain had left the scenery grey, stripping it off of its colors. It wasn’t a gray Jaejoong liked. It reminded him of bones and ashes. It was the kind of gray found in cemeteries, on gravestones, washed gray by time.
From below him, the stench of decaying leaves rose from the ground. It threatened the memories of fragrant spring flowers that still lingered in his nostrils. He covered his nose with his hand quickly and turned his back on the gray landscape. He wanted gold inlaid into the rain. He wanted the scent of the sea.
Jaejoong laid down on the futon and pulled the heavy blankets over him. In the semi-darkness, he feared falling asleep and dreaming, and not finding the right one.
He had no idea how long he stayed under the covers, but Junsu found him after a while to invite him out.
“Hyung,”
“…Yeah,” His voice sounded weird underneath, as if it didn’t make it out.
“We’re gonna get some fresh air. Changmin says you can see the fishes in the streams really well after the rain.”
Jaejoong hugged the pillow to his chest.
“Go on without me.”
“You sure? Don’t you want to see something else? I mean this house is nice and all, but staring at the same ceiling and walls is getting pretty boring.” Junsu insisted.
Jaejoong stared at the wall of fabric in front of him.
“I’ll see you later, Junsu.”
But instead of leaving, Jaejoong heard him approach and then Junsu’s hand was slipping inside the covers and landing softly on his forehead.
“What’s the matter? You’re not feeling well?”
Jaejoong covered Junsu’s hand with his. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. Want me to stay with you?”
Jaejoong shook his head. “No, just go Junsu. Have fun. Don’t fall into the water.”
Junsu laughed. “I’ll try. You sure you don’t want to come?”
“Yeah.”
Junsu hesitated for a bit and then Jaejoong heard his footsteps as he walked away.
A few minutes later, footsteps approached the bedroom once more. Jaejoong wondered if Junsu decided to stay with him in the end.
He didn’t move, just stayed still until he could feel the person stand over him, and then sit beside his futon. A gentle hand touched the fabric covering his shoulder searchingly, and then it slid down his arm and rested about where his hand was.
Jaejoong’s hand twitched and then slowly slipped out from under the blankets. His fingers curled in as it was exposed to the air. He had forgotten how cold it was beyond the sheets. A second further and he encountered Yunho’s fingers. Almost shyly, as if it had been a while since he had held him, Jaejoong intertwined their fingers together. It had been the first time, ever since he had woken from his dream that Jaejoong had felt a bit grounded, anchored in real time.
“Junsu-sshi had closed the door before I could get out. I think that meant I should stay here with you.” Yunho said after a while. “That or he just doesn’t like me.”
Jaejoong smiled against the pillow. “He likes you.”
“Oh,” Yunho’s thumb stroked the back of his hand. “I feel better now.”
Jaejoong chuckled softly.
“How about you, Jaejoong-sshi? How are you feeling?”
Jaejoong stared at the slim line of light at the blanket’s edge, at his arm sticking out of it.
“A little better…” He said truthfully.
“Glad to hear it.” Yunho squeezed his hand. “So, will I get to see the rest of you now? Maybe catch up to Changmin and Junsu-sshi?”
Jaejoong shook his head. “I like it in here.”
It had been one of Yoochun’s habits he had picked up. Yoochun hid in closets and under the blankets when he had needed a world of his own for a duration of time. Jaejoong would usually find him in those cramp spaces and join him…
“…Then,” Yunho lifted the edge of the blanket a slice. “You got room for one more?”
Jaejoong’s eyes widened and his hand shook in Yunho’s grip. A tiny smile pushed past his lips. He took a deep breath and pulled Yunho inside.
It took a while to orient themselves. With two of them under the covers, the edges of the sheets lifted with their movements and cold air got in.
Jaejoong was used to sharing the bed. Junsu was a messy sleeper and ate up so much space that Jaejoong could never forget he was alone. But with Junsu, their bodies, legs, hips, arms, touching wasn’t a big deal. With Yunho, it was different.
Yunho chuckled as he grabbed the edge of the sheets on his side as it lifted once again. As for Jaejoong, he had placed the edge of the sheet on his side under his body to pin it down and lay sideways parallel to Yunho. He watched Yunho try to find a better way of not letting the cold air in for a few more seconds, before grabbing the front of his shirt and had him lie closer. After that, the cold air stopped seeping inside.
“Sorry, about that.”
“S’okay, I needed some fresh air anyway.”
Yunho held up the roof of fabric and peered at him.
“Nice place you got here.”
“Thanks. It’s small and cramped, but it’s going to be home for today.”
Yunho rested the side of his head comfortably on the pillow and met his gaze in the semi-darkness.
“You’re planning on staying here all day?”
“Possibly longer.”
“All night then?”
“Maybe forever.”
Yunho raised an eyebrow.
“With occasional trips to the bathroom and kitchen, of course.”
Yunho grinned. “You know, it might be cold and a little gray out there, but it’s not that bad.”
Jaejoong shook his head. “It’s nicer in here.”
Yunho looked around. “It is, but it might get boring eventually.”
“You can visit me from time to time.”
“What? Like, ‘hi, neighbor, got some sugar under there?’”
“Sorry, try the kitchen.”
“Okay, so I can’t ask for things,” Yunho said thoughtfully. “Except for a pillow maybe.”
“Try bringing something instead.”
“I could bring flowers.” Yunho suggested.
“I’ll need a vase.”
“I could bring that too.”
Their smiles mirrored one another.
“What if…” Yunho’s gaze flicked away for a second, but returned with a kind of stubborn determination. “What if I wanted to take you out?”
Jaejoong blinked in surprise. The air inside the sheets seemed suddenly warmer than before. “You don’t have to take me out.” He whispered, feeling around for words. “This could be our first date.”
Yunho’s lips curled up into a pleased smile. “Interesting place for our first date.”
“Nothing much to do though.” Jaejoong smiled apologetically.
“What are you talking about? There are plenty of things to do under here.” Yunho smirked.
“Like?” Jaejoong felt his heart in his throat, it was hard to swallow, kind of hard to think too when Yunho was this close.
“Don’t know about you,” Yunho murmured. “But the first thing that comes to mind would be…”
Yunho shifted closer. Jaejoong held his breath. Yunho held out his hand. Jaejoong stared at it.
“Rock, paper, or scissors?” Yunho asked seriously.
Jaejoong blinked. And blinked again.
There was a small tugging at the corner of Yunho’s lips and Jaejoong burst out laughing. He covered his mouth with his arms, flailing, as his shoulders shook uncontrollably. Yunho was laughing too, his voice ringing true and making everything it bounced off of more solid, less transparent, less dreamlike to Jaejoong.
Jaejoong could feel himself becoming heavier too, more solid against the futon, until the very tips of his fingers tingled with feeling, and he could no longer smell spring flowers, and feel blinded by cloudless skies, and he was able to move his arm freely because all this time, it hadn’t been broken.
The laughter faded from his lips slowly and Jaejoong stared unseeingly at the blanket Yunho held up. He glanced from the blanket to Yunho who looked down at him worriedly.
“Are you okay, Jaejoong-sshi?” Yunho asked softly.
Jaejoong felt the hot trail of tears slide down his hairline, right above his ears.
The dream, like every day that passed, every minute, and every second, was gone, and Jaejoong felt the great distance between here and Yoochun stretch onward. On and on.
He drew his hand up and wiped the tears away.
“Yeah,”
Yunho looked unconvinced.
He reached up then, and cupped Yunho’s face in his hands. He took comfort in the solidness of Yunho’s jaw, in the realness of his skin, in his capable warmth. Jaejoong pulled Yunho downward and shivered at the meeting of their lips.
The sheets slipped from Yunho’s shoulders and let the cold air and gray light in.
~TBC
Thank you for reading.