Fic-DBSK-On Living
Title: On Living
Author: virdant
Length: 1,150 words; one-shot (4/11)
Rating: G / PG
Genre: General, Angst, Romance
Pairing: Implied HoMin, JaeChun, Yoosu.
Summary: Changmin lets the cheap, still half-broken heater talk for him. He remembers light and laughter. He remembers complications like this one never arising, because simple feelings stayed forever and complicated feelings turned simple. He remembers confusion slipping away into understanding and bitterness washed away by sweetness.
Warning: None
Notes: For yuxo, because I did promise her HoMin long long ago, and uh, I fail, as usual. (But I like this fic, somehow. It came through nicely).
On Living
This winter, Changmin walks home alone.
This is not the first time his boots crunch without another echoing after him. He remembers, as a child, what it was like to huddle within jackets blowing on almost numb fingers. But he also remembers smiles that glow like flames flickering at the edge of his grasp; warmth within his grasp and danger just outside.
But it’s winter now.
And Changmin hears his steps crunch solitarily in the silence of night and knows: I am alone.
*
Kim Jaejoong is drunk.
“You’re drunk,” Changmin says unnecessarily through the crackle of the phone. It’s obvious, and another day-another season, another time-he would have something to add. But this time, all he remembers are warm hands wrapping around cold fingers and a smile where none are now.
Jaejoong laughs. It comes through almost deranged through cheap phone lines and a receiver Changmin never bothered to replace with something better. “Yoochun broke up with me.”
Changmin closes his eyes.
Then, wonderingly, through the buzz and crackle of a world outside Jaejoong and his misery, Jaejoong repeats, as if he’s only just realized: “Yoochun broke up with me.”
Changmin opens his eyes and stares at the tea-stained carpet. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“Yoochun broke up with me, Changminnie. I wonder why he did that. Do you think it was me?”
“No,” Changmin says, “How can it be you?”
“I’m all alone now.”
“I know.” But those words are too callous. “I’m sorry.”
“Is this what it was like?”
Changmin lets the cheap, still half-broken heater talk for him. He remembers light and laughter. He remembers complications like this one never arising, because simple feelings stayed forever and complicated feelings turned simple. He remembers confusion slipping away into understanding and bitterness washed away by sweetness.
He remembers living.
“Yes,” he says at last. “It was a little like this. Yes.”
He remembers the cold numbing away warmth; loneliness overwhelming the memory of companionship; simple feelings, like love, becoming complicated, like betrayal; bewilderment clouding clarity; and the bitter tang of walking home alone lingering in his mouth.
*
It’s still winter, and Changmin still walks home alone every day. He inhales cold air until his throat and nose tingles with the chill, and carries the feeling with him through his life as if it’s a proper substitute for an actual human wrapping warmth around numb fingers.
“Do you miss me?” Changmin hears.
But when Changmin turns around, there’s nothing there but the wind scattering away his footsteps.
*
Jaejoong stands in his living room when Changmin walks in.
“Hey,” Changmin manages. It’s odd, seeing Jaejoong again.
“Hey,” Jaejoong replies.
Changmin remembers how they met three, four, five years ago. It was spring, and Jaejoong was just introduced to Changmin with a smile that spread warmth along his veins. Jaejoong smiled and said to Changmin: “take care of him.”
Changmin laughed and leaned backwards, into simple feelings and complicated ones made simple.
“I will,” he promised, “as long as he’s taking care of me.”
Jaejoong laughed, as if that was the funniest thing he ever heard.
That was three, four, five years ago. Now, Jaejoong doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh, but instead stands in the middle of Changmin’s living room. Solitary. Framed by a still half-broken heater, a chair with varnish peeling off, and a rug that no longer has a pattern woven into it.
“How did you get in?” Changmin remembers to ask. He peels off layers. Jaejoong’s turned up the heater higher than Changmin usually does. It’s too warm, somehow.
“You didn’t lock it,” Jaejoong replies.
“I didn’t?”
“No.”
And there’s nothing left to say. Changmin and Jaejoong stare at each other from a distance of two meters, and Changmin wonders when this distance first existed.
*
“I mourn,” Jaejoong says finally over a cup of tea. Hot tea, which Changmin drinks despite loathing the bitter taste. It’s good for him, and he remembers complaining, a long time (three months) ago, about it. “I mourn,” Jaejoong continues, “because what else is there for me to do?”
Changmin thinks: cry, laugh, scream.
“I don’t know,” Changmin says.
I don’t know. Changmin stares into the murky liquid cupped within his hands. He thinks of life whooshing by every second he stands with another by his side. He thinks of life slipping away unnecessarily. Right and wrong rules enforced despite being wrong.
“Just because you think the world is cruel doesn’t mean it actually is cruel.”
“What if it actually is?” Changmin murmurs.
He doesn’t expect an answer, but Jaejoong gives him one anyways. “Then change things.”
Jaejoong wraps warm hands around frozen ones. “Mourn. But celebrate life. Celebrate the time you had together.”
*
Celebrate the dull drab days that turned meaningful when Yunho by your side.
Celebrate the grey sky that turned blue when you walked home together.
Celebrate the way troubles faded away when you smiled at each other.
*
“Are you celebrating?” Changmin asks, almost sneering, but Jaejoong doesn’t deserve that. Not with Jaejoong alone as well.
“Yoochun is happier now,” Jaejoong said. He stares down at his hands before smiling at Changmin. “We talked earlier. He said sorry. I said sorry. And I asked him: ‘are you happy?’”
“And he said he’s happier?”
“He said that Junsu can never compare to me. He said that he loves me, and he loves Junsu.” Jaejoong shook his head a little. “He said I mourn Yunho too much to love him with all my heart. And maybe I do. Because I did love Yunho. It wasn’t the same way I love Yoochun, not the same way I love you, but I did love him.”
“You don’t love him anymore?”
“I do. But Changmin…” Here, Jaejoong leaned forward, tightening his grip on Changmin’s hands. Fiercely. Hot heat burning through numbness. “Changmin… it’s time to let go.”
*
Changmin opens the windows that have been shut for three years. He lets in the air that’s somehow not as cold as it seemed when he was walking home, alone, and breathes in the crispness of life.
It starts slowly, building up in his throat. Tears. Laughter. Perhaps a scream. Changmin’s not certain what it is. But it builds up and up, and he finds himself crying, laughing, screaming, all at once.
Jaejoong stands in a street under an open window and thinks he can hear Changmin’s song to Yunho in the tears, laughter, and scream. He thinks he can hear the question: why did you leave me? Why did you leave me before I could tell you: I love you?
But he can also hear the song: I love you; I love our life together. I was happy. It was worth it.
It was worth it, hearing your heart beating with mine.
Jaejoong starts walking away, but not before he mouths along to grief, agony, joy, happiness.
It’s worth it, living.
yuxo: Happy early birthday! I cannibalized a fic and used your birthday as motivation to write a fic that I wanted to write anyways, but never got around to. But here. sorry if you hate it. ♥ (Luckiliy, I finished it early enough for your birthday)
Author: virdant
Length: 1,150 words; one-shot (4/11)
Rating: G / PG
Genre: General, Angst, Romance
Pairing: Implied HoMin, JaeChun, Yoosu.
Summary: Changmin lets the cheap, still half-broken heater talk for him. He remembers light and laughter. He remembers complications like this one never arising, because simple feelings stayed forever and complicated feelings turned simple. He remembers confusion slipping away into understanding and bitterness washed away by sweetness.
Warning: None
Notes: For yuxo, because I did promise her HoMin long long ago, and uh, I fail, as usual. (But I like this fic, somehow. It came through nicely).
On Living
This winter, Changmin walks home alone.
This is not the first time his boots crunch without another echoing after him. He remembers, as a child, what it was like to huddle within jackets blowing on almost numb fingers. But he also remembers smiles that glow like flames flickering at the edge of his grasp; warmth within his grasp and danger just outside.
But it’s winter now.
And Changmin hears his steps crunch solitarily in the silence of night and knows: I am alone.
*
Kim Jaejoong is drunk.
“You’re drunk,” Changmin says unnecessarily through the crackle of the phone. It’s obvious, and another day-another season, another time-he would have something to add. But this time, all he remembers are warm hands wrapping around cold fingers and a smile where none are now.
Jaejoong laughs. It comes through almost deranged through cheap phone lines and a receiver Changmin never bothered to replace with something better. “Yoochun broke up with me.”
Changmin closes his eyes.
Then, wonderingly, through the buzz and crackle of a world outside Jaejoong and his misery, Jaejoong repeats, as if he’s only just realized: “Yoochun broke up with me.”
Changmin opens his eyes and stares at the tea-stained carpet. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“Yoochun broke up with me, Changminnie. I wonder why he did that. Do you think it was me?”
“No,” Changmin says, “How can it be you?”
“I’m all alone now.”
“I know.” But those words are too callous. “I’m sorry.”
“Is this what it was like?”
Changmin lets the cheap, still half-broken heater talk for him. He remembers light and laughter. He remembers complications like this one never arising, because simple feelings stayed forever and complicated feelings turned simple. He remembers confusion slipping away into understanding and bitterness washed away by sweetness.
He remembers living.
“Yes,” he says at last. “It was a little like this. Yes.”
He remembers the cold numbing away warmth; loneliness overwhelming the memory of companionship; simple feelings, like love, becoming complicated, like betrayal; bewilderment clouding clarity; and the bitter tang of walking home alone lingering in his mouth.
*
It’s still winter, and Changmin still walks home alone every day. He inhales cold air until his throat and nose tingles with the chill, and carries the feeling with him through his life as if it’s a proper substitute for an actual human wrapping warmth around numb fingers.
“Do you miss me?” Changmin hears.
But when Changmin turns around, there’s nothing there but the wind scattering away his footsteps.
*
Jaejoong stands in his living room when Changmin walks in.
“Hey,” Changmin manages. It’s odd, seeing Jaejoong again.
“Hey,” Jaejoong replies.
Changmin remembers how they met three, four, five years ago. It was spring, and Jaejoong was just introduced to Changmin with a smile that spread warmth along his veins. Jaejoong smiled and said to Changmin: “take care of him.”
Changmin laughed and leaned backwards, into simple feelings and complicated ones made simple.
“I will,” he promised, “as long as he’s taking care of me.”
Jaejoong laughed, as if that was the funniest thing he ever heard.
That was three, four, five years ago. Now, Jaejoong doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh, but instead stands in the middle of Changmin’s living room. Solitary. Framed by a still half-broken heater, a chair with varnish peeling off, and a rug that no longer has a pattern woven into it.
“How did you get in?” Changmin remembers to ask. He peels off layers. Jaejoong’s turned up the heater higher than Changmin usually does. It’s too warm, somehow.
“You didn’t lock it,” Jaejoong replies.
“I didn’t?”
“No.”
And there’s nothing left to say. Changmin and Jaejoong stare at each other from a distance of two meters, and Changmin wonders when this distance first existed.
*
“I mourn,” Jaejoong says finally over a cup of tea. Hot tea, which Changmin drinks despite loathing the bitter taste. It’s good for him, and he remembers complaining, a long time (three months) ago, about it. “I mourn,” Jaejoong continues, “because what else is there for me to do?”
Changmin thinks: cry, laugh, scream.
“I don’t know,” Changmin says.
I don’t know. Changmin stares into the murky liquid cupped within his hands. He thinks of life whooshing by every second he stands with another by his side. He thinks of life slipping away unnecessarily. Right and wrong rules enforced despite being wrong.
“Just because you think the world is cruel doesn’t mean it actually is cruel.”
“What if it actually is?” Changmin murmurs.
He doesn’t expect an answer, but Jaejoong gives him one anyways. “Then change things.”
Jaejoong wraps warm hands around frozen ones. “Mourn. But celebrate life. Celebrate the time you had together.”
*
Celebrate the dull drab days that turned meaningful when Yunho by your side.
Celebrate the grey sky that turned blue when you walked home together.
Celebrate the way troubles faded away when you smiled at each other.
*
“Are you celebrating?” Changmin asks, almost sneering, but Jaejoong doesn’t deserve that. Not with Jaejoong alone as well.
“Yoochun is happier now,” Jaejoong said. He stares down at his hands before smiling at Changmin. “We talked earlier. He said sorry. I said sorry. And I asked him: ‘are you happy?’”
“And he said he’s happier?”
“He said that Junsu can never compare to me. He said that he loves me, and he loves Junsu.” Jaejoong shook his head a little. “He said I mourn Yunho too much to love him with all my heart. And maybe I do. Because I did love Yunho. It wasn’t the same way I love Yoochun, not the same way I love you, but I did love him.”
“You don’t love him anymore?”
“I do. But Changmin…” Here, Jaejoong leaned forward, tightening his grip on Changmin’s hands. Fiercely. Hot heat burning through numbness. “Changmin… it’s time to let go.”
*
Changmin opens the windows that have been shut for three years. He lets in the air that’s somehow not as cold as it seemed when he was walking home, alone, and breathes in the crispness of life.
It starts slowly, building up in his throat. Tears. Laughter. Perhaps a scream. Changmin’s not certain what it is. But it builds up and up, and he finds himself crying, laughing, screaming, all at once.
Jaejoong stands in a street under an open window and thinks he can hear Changmin’s song to Yunho in the tears, laughter, and scream. He thinks he can hear the question: why did you leave me? Why did you leave me before I could tell you: I love you?
But he can also hear the song: I love you; I love our life together. I was happy. It was worth it.
It was worth it, hearing your heart beating with mine.
Jaejoong starts walking away, but not before he mouths along to grief, agony, joy, happiness.
It’s worth it, living.
yuxo: Happy early birthday! I cannibalized a fic and used your birthday as motivation to write a fic that I wanted to write anyways, but never got around to. But here. sorry if you hate it. ♥ (Luckiliy, I finished it early enough for your birthday)