mirotic fic, wut?
finally it has started, the end of my metamorphosis. isn't this also love?
Junsu is in love with Yoochun. He’s in love, and even though it’s desperate and raw and painful and wrong, he can’t get away from it.
He can’t get away from the warmth in his chest when Yoochun smiles at him. The flips in his stomach every time fingers brush his skin.
The stabbing pain in his chest whenever Yoochun looks at anyone else.
He knows there’s something wrong with him whenever he watches Yoochun trapped inside of the glass box, fear in his eyes, fingers grasping against the glass and then the camera is off and it’s over.
He wants to replay it in his mind forever.
//
When Junsu sleeps, Yoochun is his.
Yoochun stays in the glass box and scratches at the sides and Junsu smiles because he knows he won’t get away.
On the third night, he stares at himself in the walls of Yoochun’s box until his reflection seems to move on its own.
He blinks. It doesn’t.
“Xiah,” he breathes.
“You love him,” is the answer.
And Junsu doesn’t try to deny it.
//
Yoochun doesn’t talk to Junsu anymore.
He doesn’t like the way that Junsu’s eyes linger on him, dark and almost empty but they burn.
“Yoochunah,” Junsu whispers, coming up behind him and he says nothing. He walks away, trying not to move too quickly but it doesn’t matter. Junsu doesn’t follow him.
Instead, he smiles. He knows that he’ll be seeing Yoochun tonight in his box, and that’s all that he needs.
//
It becomes routine quickly. Much more quickly than it should, and now it’s what Junsu lives for.
He sits in front of Yoochun’s box, watching as he screams and pounds at the glass and scratches the sides. More violently now than before, but it doesn’t matter. He still won’t get away.
Xiah’s touch sends shivers through his body, tingles along his spine as fingers work through his hair for no reason at all. Just the way he likes it.
Both of them.
“Tell him.”
His own voice ghosts along his ear, almost invisible.
//
He wakes up in a cold sweat and stares at the wall for half an hour before stumbling into the bathroom to take a shower.
Changmin isn’t in his bed.
Junsu hears laughter in the living room, then the thump of someone tripping on the coffee table. A shushing sound. More laughter, every sound familiar.
Two forms slip past the bathroom door and Junsu sees them through the crack. Changmin complains distantly about his toe hurting. Yoochun assures him that he can kiss it and make it better. Silence and the click of a door, and then nothing.
He moves to the shower and turns the left knob all the way.
He stays there until someone pounds on the door and tells him to hurry up. Then he stays a little longer.
“I love you,” he whispers, but it doesn’t matter because Yoochun won’t hear him anyway.
Not inside his glass box.
//
Junsu stands shaking in the middle of the black room that’s become his home.
There are shards of glass surrounding him and an empty space and it’s too quiet without the screams, the scratching. Too quiet without Yoochun, and he shakes harder.
He loves him.
Loved him.
Xiah comes from behind and warm arms secure themselves around him.
“It’s okay.”
His own voice is back again, whisper against his ear and he closes his eyes.
“You still have me.”
He sees a flash of silver, and when Xiah kisses him, he falls.
//
Tomorrow comes and he doesn’t get up to shower. He doesn’t get up for breakfast or for lunch or anything in between and eventually they look for him.
They find him just where he was before. Sleeping peacefully, eyes closed and emotionless except for the sharp spark of red he’s using as an accessory.
A small glass box with one side missing is on the floor.
Red was always a good color on him.
you're my slave, i’ve got you under my skin
Junsu is in love with Yoochun. He’s in love, and even though it’s desperate and raw and painful and wrong, he can’t get away from it.
He can’t get away from the warmth in his chest when Yoochun smiles at him. The flips in his stomach every time fingers brush his skin.
The stabbing pain in his chest whenever Yoochun looks at anyone else.
He knows there’s something wrong with him whenever he watches Yoochun trapped inside of the glass box, fear in his eyes, fingers grasping against the glass and then the camera is off and it’s over.
He wants to replay it in his mind forever.
//
When Junsu sleeps, Yoochun is his.
Yoochun stays in the glass box and scratches at the sides and Junsu smiles because he knows he won’t get away.
On the third night, he stares at himself in the walls of Yoochun’s box until his reflection seems to move on its own.
He blinks. It doesn’t.
“Xiah,” he breathes.
“You love him,” is the answer.
And Junsu doesn’t try to deny it.
//
Yoochun doesn’t talk to Junsu anymore.
He doesn’t like the way that Junsu’s eyes linger on him, dark and almost empty but they burn.
“Yoochunah,” Junsu whispers, coming up behind him and he says nothing. He walks away, trying not to move too quickly but it doesn’t matter. Junsu doesn’t follow him.
Instead, he smiles. He knows that he’ll be seeing Yoochun tonight in his box, and that’s all that he needs.
//
It becomes routine quickly. Much more quickly than it should, and now it’s what Junsu lives for.
He sits in front of Yoochun’s box, watching as he screams and pounds at the glass and scratches the sides. More violently now than before, but it doesn’t matter. He still won’t get away.
Xiah’s touch sends shivers through his body, tingles along his spine as fingers work through his hair for no reason at all. Just the way he likes it.
Both of them.
“Tell him.”
His own voice ghosts along his ear, almost invisible.
//
He wakes up in a cold sweat and stares at the wall for half an hour before stumbling into the bathroom to take a shower.
Changmin isn’t in his bed.
Junsu hears laughter in the living room, then the thump of someone tripping on the coffee table. A shushing sound. More laughter, every sound familiar.
Two forms slip past the bathroom door and Junsu sees them through the crack. Changmin complains distantly about his toe hurting. Yoochun assures him that he can kiss it and make it better. Silence and the click of a door, and then nothing.
He moves to the shower and turns the left knob all the way.
He stays there until someone pounds on the door and tells him to hurry up. Then he stays a little longer.
“I love you,” he whispers, but it doesn’t matter because Yoochun won’t hear him anyway.
Not inside his glass box.
//
Junsu stands shaking in the middle of the black room that’s become his home.
There are shards of glass surrounding him and an empty space and it’s too quiet without the screams, the scratching. Too quiet without Yoochun, and he shakes harder.
He loves him.
Loved him.
Xiah comes from behind and warm arms secure themselves around him.
“It’s okay.”
His own voice is back again, whisper against his ear and he closes his eyes.
“You still have me.”
He sees a flash of silver, and when Xiah kisses him, he falls.
//
Tomorrow comes and he doesn’t get up to shower. He doesn’t get up for breakfast or for lunch or anything in between and eventually they look for him.
They find him just where he was before. Sleeping peacefully, eyes closed and emotionless except for the sharp spark of red he’s using as an accessory.
A small glass box with one side missing is on the floor.
Red was always a good color on him.
you're my slave, i’ve got you under my skin