[Fan Fiction] The Way You Aren't {Chapter 1}
Title: The Way You Aren't
Pairing: HoMin. 's all I got so far, don't judge.
Rating: PG-13? IDK. No sexy times, guys. Sorry.
Genre: Is angst a genre? It could be romance, I guess? Certainly not comedy.
Notes: This is the first fic I have ever written. Feedback is appreciated, but please be constructive. I don't care if you're a bitch. You won't be one in my journal. And if you see any grammatical/spelling errors, please let me know? *terribly anal about that stuff*
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish they were slaves in my sex dungeon, but they are their own men and live their own lives. This is just me making up a possible future for them. If it really happens eventually, you may all call me the Prophet Ameh.
Chapter One
Life can take us strange places sometimes. We may follow our paths to distant countries, wherein languages are spoken that we hardly understand. Life might lead one right back into the arms of the love they believed lost, years ago. It pushes us into the depths of the oceans, or to the farthest reaches of space. The trails we follow may lead us far from where they began, and present many a (to those not following them) superfluous offshoot to entertain us on our journey.
The roads of life can take us many places.
And yet, sometimes, they lead nowhere.
Shim Changmin and Jung Yunho had been walking the same path for well over twenty years. Hand in hand, and with the company of three of the best brothers in the world, they set out on a path that seemed, for the most part, to be circular. Secure in friendship, the five walked side by side trodding their beaten path together. And yet, somehow, somewhere along the way, three had managed to slip from the road, off onto their own journey. Yunho and Changmin were left to their own destinies.
The separation was deeply felt. For someone who had spent so much time as the youngest of five brothers, the maknae of the five Gods of the East, there had been a sudden emptiness that couldn't be shaken off. The leader was left with only one in his care. It was an adjustment laboriously made. The friendship stood fast, but... the two felt as if their careers were crashing down around their heads. The influx of work was steady, yes. But TVXQ was the base of their existence in the entertainment world. That foundation was being threatened.
The void was filled with other jobs. Dramas, modeling, stage performances... both gladly accepted and threw themselves into such jobs, determined to make their marks. Determined to not disappear from the public eye long enough for people to forget their faces. Determined to keep the faith that the three would step back onto the path once more, that hands would take hands up again, and they'd continue on their way as if they'd never parted.
It never happened.
~~~~~
Nearly in the clutches of his mid-thirties, Shim Changmin still looked the part of the youthful maknae. His face had aged little over the last decade; a smile line here, the ghost of a forehead crease there. His bright grins still caused his sharp eyes to go mis-matched, and any expression with those two features involved threw those looking at him right back to when he was just coming of age. If anything, he'd only grown more distinguished in the intervening years.
The strange haircuts and odd clothing had disappeared with the end of his contract with SM Entertainment. The dorm had been abandoned. The music industry had quietly mourned as he slipped away from it, his focus moving full-time to parts in dramas and movies that were passed to him through JYJ Entertainment. Yes, things had changed drastically.
And yet, one thing had remained, a comforting constant in his life that made the passage of time seem slower, more leisurely. One thing kept him tethered to that quiet, circular walk.
Drawing a long sip from the coffee mug, Changmin wrinkled his nose and looked away from the laptop screen. Sitting on a stool at the island in the middle of the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the news while occasionally taking a drag off his cigarette, had been his morning routine for four years now. And yet somehow, every day, he managed to not put enough sugar into the bitter drink. His disgusted expression descended into outright frowning; the sugar bowl on the counter was empty.
How unfair.
Highlighting the spot he was at in the article he'd been reading and shoving the nearly gone cigarette between his lips, the half-dressed man hopped off the stool and padded on bare feet into the gigantic pantry. Letting out a puff of nicotine and chemical-laced smoke, he flicked the light on and began the search for a new bag of sugar.
...he really should have had more involvement in organising this place. While pushing things aside on the shelf, he managed to find a package of chocolate biscuits and another canister of coffee among the other foodstuffs, but... no sugar.
There had to be some. How could there be no SUGAR.
"Yah," he called loudly, rubbing the back of his neck and taking a step back, into the doorway of the small closet of a pantry. "Where did you hide the sugar, I can't find it."
Gentle fingers slipped the cigarette from his own, and Changmin flinched before turning on the spot and reaching for it. He only allowed himself one a day; he was, after all, still carrying the vanity he'd always carried, and didn't want to lose his looks. But Jung Yunho was standing behind him, a bemused look on his face as he held the cigarette just out of reach.
"You shouldn't carry this into the pantry, you'll get ashes all over the floor and the smell of the smoke will never leave."
The younger man reached once more for it, although it was pointless now as it was completely burned to ash. Ash that Yunho had just accidentally flicked on the floor. Changmin stared at it disapprovingly before stepping back into the pantry. He certainly wasn't going to clean it up, and the neat-freak that Yunho had become wouldn't just leave it on the tiles. Smirking at the silent reproof that was practically rolling off the older man, he resumed searching shelves.
"Behind the flour," Yunho called from across the kitchen, tucking the broom between the fridge and wall, where it would wait until Mr. Shim's cigarette spilled more ashes on another not so distant morning. "Top shelf on the left. At the back."
Either out of revenge or absentmindedness, the aging leader perched himself on Changmin's stool, pulling his sweatshirt tighter around him even as he started peeling the outer layer off an orange. In the years since his heyday as the frontman of TVXQ, his figure had changed somewhat. Much more than his younger partner's had. His once dark brown hair had been sprinkled with a smattering of silver at the temples. This had started three years ago; he was thankful that its progress was slow, and frequently covered it with dye, but lately he hadn't been bothered about it, and the barest hint of silvering was there for those who knew to look for it. His youthful face was year-worn, carrying a few more age lines than Changmin's did. The flat stomach was a little less flat, but that was okay. He was comfortable with that. It wasn't as if he modeled anymore, after all. He kept in shape. It was just... a different shape, nowadays.
Their relationship had begun out of mutual need; Yunho had made the advances, of course. In the aftermath of the lawsuit, the dorm had become almost depressingly empty. The two that had lived there had moved out, taking their possessions and presence with them. JaeJoong no longer danced around the kitchen, singing purposely off-key as he carefully swung a sizzling frying pan around. Yoochun no longer obliged them with random visits at odd hours. Junsu's lilting voice was no longer heard from the bathroom in the early hours of the morning as he showered and readied for his day. There was so much more silence, it was almost stifling. Changmin had taken to spending as much of his time as possible elsewhere. Going out with friends, working long hours, anything and everything to keep himself busy.
Yunho was far less accepting of this quiet and emptiness. He took to imitating the behaviours neither would admit to missing. It was now his off-key voice that filled the kitchen as he swung around in a far more versed manner than JaeJoong. The floor had had its share of their dinner the first week or so of this, as he lacked the control to keep things from sloshing out of the pan. His voice was the alarm clock that woke Changmin hours before he was ready to rise, a sharper and deeper intonation than Junsu's had ever been. His presence in the apartment nearly doubled in an effort to fill the silence. And slowly, ever so slowly, Changmin began to hate him for it.
The fight had happened in December.
Changmin had risen early, readying for his day before Yunho was fully awake. He'd slipped out quietly, and spent hours in the recording studio, stretched his vocal cords past their previous point of acceptance. Rather than return to the apartment, he spent the afternoon in the dance studio, both going over old routines and practising his own personal solo routine. The music video was set to begin shooting shortly after Christmas, and he wasn't quite as comfortable with his motions as he wanted to be. Body tired after such exhertion, he nonetheless moved on to the gym. His muscles protested, and he knew he would regret it the next day, but he followed the routine he'd been following for months now, determined to eat up just a little bit more time.
As he approached the door, he could hear Yunho, singing an old H.O.T song without really trying. He could smell whatever his hyung was cooking, a food that his stomach suddenly demanded he swallow without question. The banging of the pan on the burner. The heavy footfalls as Yunho jumped and bounced. The loudness of it, a loudness that not even his iPod could drown out.
His temper flared. His patience snapped.
"Stop." His voice was hard, if not a little raspy from its abuse today, and Yunho paused mid-swing and stared at him. "I have a headache, so... stop. Just... stop."
He kept his sharp eyes averted as he stripped his coat off, and lined his shoes up just inside the door. The smile on Yunho's face had faded, then disappeared; it was a sight the younger man didn't want to see, even in his stormy mood. The pan slowly lowered toward the burner, settling down silently as Yunho watched Changmin flop facedown on the couch. He clicked the burner off. The sound resonated through the entirety of the dorm, a painful reminder of the stillness filling the walls.
Changmin could hear the floorboards creaking faintly under Yunho's weight as tentative steps approached where he lay prone. How he wished to just be left alone, so his temper would slowly burn itself out. He would apologise for snapping then, and they would go on with life. The pressure would subside, he convinced himself. It wouldn't build up again.
But Yunho wasn't an idiot. The tone of the voice, the expression... both were something he'd not had from Changmin before. The underlying accusation of it all. His stomach twisted as he leaned over the back of the couch, trying to catch the closed eyes of the face turned away from him. One of his closest friends lay here in front of him, and he was refusing to even look at him?
"Are you okay?"
The maknae was silent. He did not move; his eyes squeezed shut a little tighter, as if doing so would keep Yunho's words from reaching him. Raw anger boiled in his gut, threatening to climb his throat. A million angry thoughts begged to be spoken. His teeth pressed into the tongue that longed to lash out. He was pressing his anger back, refusing to let it explode on the one friend that hadn't left him.
But when Yunho touched his shoulder, the self-control broke. The arm immediately jerked, pushing the hand away with a wide swing. Against his will and wishes, his body pushed itself into a sitting position, and then he was on his feet, eyes filled to the brim with bitterness. The rage rushed up his throat, and he coated Yunho with a wave of incensed words.
"STOP. Just stop. Stop trying to be JaeJoong hyung. You never pranced around the kitchen like an idiot before, and you don't have to now that he's left. And stop waking me in the morning by imitating Junsu-hyung in the bathroom. He never did that to me." His face was red from both embarrassment and the fiery base of his words. "We see them! We go places with them! Yoochun hyung bought us ramen three damn days ago! Do you not realise how much I HATE the way you are?"
It was the loudest the apartment had been in quite some time. The words bounced off the walls, splattering the apartment with an air of unease. Changmin's raspy shouts had shocked Yunho into a horrified silence, and he simply stood where he was, one hand still held up as if the other man hadn't moved from where he was and he was going to give touching his arm a second try. Chest rising and falling rather rapidly, Changmin glared at the back of the couch. The shame following his outburst mixed easily with his rage, and a wave of nausea rushed through him.
"Changm-"
The hurt evident in Yunho's voice tore at his heart, and he finally looked at the hyung he had just unleashed on. The sadness was littered across his features.
"Don't. Just... don't." He was quieter this time. His words were even slightly disjointed as his throat closed in upon itself. "You're... you're driving me insane, you know? Acting like them, trying to make it like they've not left." His voice gave slightly, cracking from fatigue, overuse, and general upset. "They're not here anymore. You're making it worse. Just... can't you just be you?"
His gaze had flickered, moved from place to place as he spoke. If he'd focused on Yunho, it would have given out completely, and the words would have driven him to tears for their inability to be spoken. However, the pleading eyes moved back to Yunho's face as he finished all that he had to say. The angry words were spent. His stomach went rather abruptly cold. The back of his eyes prickled dangerously. Yunho had barely moved, save to lower his outstretched arm. His face gradually turned more and more toward the floor, avoiding the searching looks of the shaking younger man.
Changmin had been pulling away from him for a while. He'd been quiet when it was just the two of them, moreso than usual. He'd eaten quicker, retired to his room earlier and earlier. But Yunho hadn't realised that... it was he who was doing this. He hadn't realised that by being bigger, louder... by being more his missing members than himself... he'd been causing it. He'd been hurting rather than helping. And Changmin hadn't said a word.
The silence before now was nothing compared to that which stretched between them now. As the minutes added up, the maknae's eyes burned ever more, and he felt the unbearable urge to hide. His room would be a safe haven. He could lock the door, turn the music up, and stew in his own inner turmoil. Which was something he was not used to doing, at all, but damnit, there was a first time for everything. It was either that, or go out and drink himself blind and stupid, but somehow he was pretty sure that waking up to that in the morning would make the situation even worse.
His first timid steps sped him into a hasty walk as he circled the couch and passed Yunho. The space between them, he thought, was wide enough - he could surreptitiously look at Yunho's face as he passed, and if the man had descended into his own aggression, he was far enough away that he couldn't hit too hard should he lash out at him.
Apparently the space wasn't wide enough. Changmin could see the crushed look on the leader's face, and he hurriedly looked away and continued on his path toward his room. However, a hand snapped out and wrapped around his forearm, fingers tight against his skin and unwilling to let go. He took another step, but the grip did not yield and let him go, and he stopped where he was, left arm stretched out behind him, right hanging limply at his side. Shoulders slumped, but he did not turn. Yunho was staring holes into the ashamed back.
"Why?" Yunho demanded, body turned not quite enough to face the one he was now speaking to. "Why did you wait so long to say anything? You've been letting this build up, haven't you. Just living with it and not saying a word to me about it. Are you some kind of masochist, Changmin? You'd rather live unhappily than speak your mind? You'd rather let it fill you up until you're ready to explode? Why didn't you SAY anything?" The shoulders shook, and he gritted his teeth. "You have no right to cry over this. None at all, so stop. Are you really that closed up, that you can't even express yourself to me? We've known each other for EIGHT YEARS, Changmin. Eight years, and you still don't tell me what's in your head until it's boiling over?"
The shaking was a little more pronounced this time. The slender shoulders quaked, and Changmin let out an altogether terrifying sound. The sob lodged itself in his throat, leading to it being released as a strange squeaking sound, and he gave another tug on his captive arm. His eyes burned to unbearable heights. He felt the first hot splash fall off his eyelashes and internally berated himself for it. How long had it been since he had cried in front of another person? The emotional mask that he'd been wearing for such a long time was slipping, and he was woefully inadequate at expressing exactly what was pressing against the wrong side of his ribs, creating an explosive pressure inside his chest that was going to leave him ripped into pieces.
"Let go," he murmured, voice lacking the strength it had had minutes before. The fingers only tightened.
"No."
Rubbing the heel of his free hand against his eyes, he took a step forward, pulling his arm along. His body refused to be held back, and he took another step, arm muscles clenching and forcing Yunho to take a step with him. This display, the battle of wills, continued as Changmin moved toward the kitchen. It was a large, open place, with no walls separating it from the living room; the bedrooms lay just past it. If he made it to his... he could slam the door on Yunho's arm, and force him to let go. He'd regret it, but... he needed to not be around him right then.
What Changmin didn't expect was that when the reached the kitchen, Yunho would stop trying to hold him back. That one arm would wrap around his middle, pressing against the bottom of his ribs as Yunho slammed his back against the island that separated the kitchen from the other room. The leader gripped the counter on either side of where his youngest charge stood, arms blocking his escape. With his stance, he was shorter than usual when standing next to Changmin, but his dark eyes nonetheless stared up at him angrily.
"I asked you WHY."
He was not used to being manhandled. At least not like this. Changmin drew a ragged breath, the cold marble counter pressing into his back as attempted to shrink away from the waves of exasperation being unleashed on him. There wasn't really anywhere to go. The uncomfortable proximity only served to make his stomach twist again, and he struggled to just continue pulling air into his lungs. His eyes searched for anywhere that Yunho wasn't, and his face turned away from the piercing stare.
"Leave me go, hyung." The utterance had grown even weaker than before. This wasn't how things were supposed to go, ever. He had been the angry one. He was the one that had the explosive temper. Yunho was supposed to just... let him walk away. He wasn't supposed to ask questions like THIS. He was supposed to let Changmin go, let him curl up in his room with his headphones and his escapist behaviour.
There was a beat of silence, and the flames of rage grew ever higher in Yunho's eyes. With sudden movements and painful force, he grabbed Changmin's shirt and pushed him sideways, throwing him to the floor. Normally, the maknae would have the will to fight back. He would take a swing at his hyung, get him to back off so he could quietly move away. The long day, and all of this emotional explosion, had taken his strength, however, and he couldn't summon up the urge to even TRY to hit Yunho back. Now on his back on the floor, his muscles throbbing faintly as his back and arm tingled with pain, he simply stared at the ceiling.
"Goddamn it Shim Changmin, answer my question."
Guilt. There was a sudden rush of it, washing over Yunho as he stood there, staring down at Changmin. He hadn't started this. He hadn't wanted this fight. He didn't want it to continue. Jung Yunho wasn't one to abuse people in such ways, especially those that he cared deeply for. So the sight of the twenty-two year old curled on the floor... he felt suddenly ill.
What was he doing? Why was he... the irrational anger was slowly dissapating, and Yunho was left standing as cold as Changmin had been. He still felt so, so wronged by the obvious lack of trust that Changmin had in him, but... to this point? Was it worth hurting him further? He'd already 'driven him insane' with his actions. This was just layering on another level of injury.
Expression softening slightly, Yunho slowly knelt down next to Changmin. The man's eyes closed in response to this movement, and the guilt doubled. Changmin thought Yunho was going to hit him. The hyung slowly began to feel a bit more monstrous.
"Changmin..." He couldn't bring himself to apologise. He couldn't bring himself to even speak another word. One hand rubbed Changmin's upper arm, the only comfort Yunho would offer his offender. The hand slipped and very cautiously touched the maknae's face, dislodging a tear from his eyelashes and carrying it away before it could spill onto his cheek. Drawing an even breath, Yunho pushed himself to his feet again and walked away. The door to his room closed with a quiet click.
This was the end, Changmin thought as he lay there on the floor. This was the last of it. Three of his best friends were not nearly as constant in his life as before, and now... now he'd pushed the remaining one away. The utter absence of Yunho at that moment was the match that lit the bomb that had been quietly building in his chest. Alone, body and mind numb, the man curled into himself right there on the floor... and cried.
Yes. It's long. Comment? And I don't know where the hell to post it, so Imma keep it all here and my F-List can just... enjoy it themselves. And I'll make it public if you wanna link other people to it, I guess? XD
Pairing: HoMin. 's all I got so far, don't judge.
Rating: PG-13? IDK. No sexy times, guys. Sorry.
Genre: Is angst a genre? It could be romance, I guess? Certainly not comedy.
Notes: This is the first fic I have ever written. Feedback is appreciated, but please be constructive. I don't care if you're a bitch. You won't be one in my journal. And if you see any grammatical/spelling errors, please let me know? *terribly anal about that stuff*
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish they were slaves in my sex dungeon, but they are their own men and live their own lives. This is just me making up a possible future for them. If it really happens eventually, you may all call me the Prophet Ameh.
Chapter One
Life can take us strange places sometimes. We may follow our paths to distant countries, wherein languages are spoken that we hardly understand. Life might lead one right back into the arms of the love they believed lost, years ago. It pushes us into the depths of the oceans, or to the farthest reaches of space. The trails we follow may lead us far from where they began, and present many a (to those not following them) superfluous offshoot to entertain us on our journey.
The roads of life can take us many places.
And yet, sometimes, they lead nowhere.
Shim Changmin and Jung Yunho had been walking the same path for well over twenty years. Hand in hand, and with the company of three of the best brothers in the world, they set out on a path that seemed, for the most part, to be circular. Secure in friendship, the five walked side by side trodding their beaten path together. And yet, somehow, somewhere along the way, three had managed to slip from the road, off onto their own journey. Yunho and Changmin were left to their own destinies.
The separation was deeply felt. For someone who had spent so much time as the youngest of five brothers, the maknae of the five Gods of the East, there had been a sudden emptiness that couldn't be shaken off. The leader was left with only one in his care. It was an adjustment laboriously made. The friendship stood fast, but... the two felt as if their careers were crashing down around their heads. The influx of work was steady, yes. But TVXQ was the base of their existence in the entertainment world. That foundation was being threatened.
The void was filled with other jobs. Dramas, modeling, stage performances... both gladly accepted and threw themselves into such jobs, determined to make their marks. Determined to not disappear from the public eye long enough for people to forget their faces. Determined to keep the faith that the three would step back onto the path once more, that hands would take hands up again, and they'd continue on their way as if they'd never parted.
It never happened.
~~~~~
Nearly in the clutches of his mid-thirties, Shim Changmin still looked the part of the youthful maknae. His face had aged little over the last decade; a smile line here, the ghost of a forehead crease there. His bright grins still caused his sharp eyes to go mis-matched, and any expression with those two features involved threw those looking at him right back to when he was just coming of age. If anything, he'd only grown more distinguished in the intervening years.
The strange haircuts and odd clothing had disappeared with the end of his contract with SM Entertainment. The dorm had been abandoned. The music industry had quietly mourned as he slipped away from it, his focus moving full-time to parts in dramas and movies that were passed to him through JYJ Entertainment. Yes, things had changed drastically.
And yet, one thing had remained, a comforting constant in his life that made the passage of time seem slower, more leisurely. One thing kept him tethered to that quiet, circular walk.
Drawing a long sip from the coffee mug, Changmin wrinkled his nose and looked away from the laptop screen. Sitting on a stool at the island in the middle of the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the news while occasionally taking a drag off his cigarette, had been his morning routine for four years now. And yet somehow, every day, he managed to not put enough sugar into the bitter drink. His disgusted expression descended into outright frowning; the sugar bowl on the counter was empty.
How unfair.
Highlighting the spot he was at in the article he'd been reading and shoving the nearly gone cigarette between his lips, the half-dressed man hopped off the stool and padded on bare feet into the gigantic pantry. Letting out a puff of nicotine and chemical-laced smoke, he flicked the light on and began the search for a new bag of sugar.
...he really should have had more involvement in organising this place. While pushing things aside on the shelf, he managed to find a package of chocolate biscuits and another canister of coffee among the other foodstuffs, but... no sugar.
There had to be some. How could there be no SUGAR.
"Yah," he called loudly, rubbing the back of his neck and taking a step back, into the doorway of the small closet of a pantry. "Where did you hide the sugar, I can't find it."
Gentle fingers slipped the cigarette from his own, and Changmin flinched before turning on the spot and reaching for it. He only allowed himself one a day; he was, after all, still carrying the vanity he'd always carried, and didn't want to lose his looks. But Jung Yunho was standing behind him, a bemused look on his face as he held the cigarette just out of reach.
"You shouldn't carry this into the pantry, you'll get ashes all over the floor and the smell of the smoke will never leave."
The younger man reached once more for it, although it was pointless now as it was completely burned to ash. Ash that Yunho had just accidentally flicked on the floor. Changmin stared at it disapprovingly before stepping back into the pantry. He certainly wasn't going to clean it up, and the neat-freak that Yunho had become wouldn't just leave it on the tiles. Smirking at the silent reproof that was practically rolling off the older man, he resumed searching shelves.
"Behind the flour," Yunho called from across the kitchen, tucking the broom between the fridge and wall, where it would wait until Mr. Shim's cigarette spilled more ashes on another not so distant morning. "Top shelf on the left. At the back."
Either out of revenge or absentmindedness, the aging leader perched himself on Changmin's stool, pulling his sweatshirt tighter around him even as he started peeling the outer layer off an orange. In the years since his heyday as the frontman of TVXQ, his figure had changed somewhat. Much more than his younger partner's had. His once dark brown hair had been sprinkled with a smattering of silver at the temples. This had started three years ago; he was thankful that its progress was slow, and frequently covered it with dye, but lately he hadn't been bothered about it, and the barest hint of silvering was there for those who knew to look for it. His youthful face was year-worn, carrying a few more age lines than Changmin's did. The flat stomach was a little less flat, but that was okay. He was comfortable with that. It wasn't as if he modeled anymore, after all. He kept in shape. It was just... a different shape, nowadays.
Their relationship had begun out of mutual need; Yunho had made the advances, of course. In the aftermath of the lawsuit, the dorm had become almost depressingly empty. The two that had lived there had moved out, taking their possessions and presence with them. JaeJoong no longer danced around the kitchen, singing purposely off-key as he carefully swung a sizzling frying pan around. Yoochun no longer obliged them with random visits at odd hours. Junsu's lilting voice was no longer heard from the bathroom in the early hours of the morning as he showered and readied for his day. There was so much more silence, it was almost stifling. Changmin had taken to spending as much of his time as possible elsewhere. Going out with friends, working long hours, anything and everything to keep himself busy.
Yunho was far less accepting of this quiet and emptiness. He took to imitating the behaviours neither would admit to missing. It was now his off-key voice that filled the kitchen as he swung around in a far more versed manner than JaeJoong. The floor had had its share of their dinner the first week or so of this, as he lacked the control to keep things from sloshing out of the pan. His voice was the alarm clock that woke Changmin hours before he was ready to rise, a sharper and deeper intonation than Junsu's had ever been. His presence in the apartment nearly doubled in an effort to fill the silence. And slowly, ever so slowly, Changmin began to hate him for it.
The fight had happened in December.
Changmin had risen early, readying for his day before Yunho was fully awake. He'd slipped out quietly, and spent hours in the recording studio, stretched his vocal cords past their previous point of acceptance. Rather than return to the apartment, he spent the afternoon in the dance studio, both going over old routines and practising his own personal solo routine. The music video was set to begin shooting shortly after Christmas, and he wasn't quite as comfortable with his motions as he wanted to be. Body tired after such exhertion, he nonetheless moved on to the gym. His muscles protested, and he knew he would regret it the next day, but he followed the routine he'd been following for months now, determined to eat up just a little bit more time.
As he approached the door, he could hear Yunho, singing an old H.O.T song without really trying. He could smell whatever his hyung was cooking, a food that his stomach suddenly demanded he swallow without question. The banging of the pan on the burner. The heavy footfalls as Yunho jumped and bounced. The loudness of it, a loudness that not even his iPod could drown out.
His temper flared. His patience snapped.
"Stop." His voice was hard, if not a little raspy from its abuse today, and Yunho paused mid-swing and stared at him. "I have a headache, so... stop. Just... stop."
He kept his sharp eyes averted as he stripped his coat off, and lined his shoes up just inside the door. The smile on Yunho's face had faded, then disappeared; it was a sight the younger man didn't want to see, even in his stormy mood. The pan slowly lowered toward the burner, settling down silently as Yunho watched Changmin flop facedown on the couch. He clicked the burner off. The sound resonated through the entirety of the dorm, a painful reminder of the stillness filling the walls.
Changmin could hear the floorboards creaking faintly under Yunho's weight as tentative steps approached where he lay prone. How he wished to just be left alone, so his temper would slowly burn itself out. He would apologise for snapping then, and they would go on with life. The pressure would subside, he convinced himself. It wouldn't build up again.
But Yunho wasn't an idiot. The tone of the voice, the expression... both were something he'd not had from Changmin before. The underlying accusation of it all. His stomach twisted as he leaned over the back of the couch, trying to catch the closed eyes of the face turned away from him. One of his closest friends lay here in front of him, and he was refusing to even look at him?
"Are you okay?"
The maknae was silent. He did not move; his eyes squeezed shut a little tighter, as if doing so would keep Yunho's words from reaching him. Raw anger boiled in his gut, threatening to climb his throat. A million angry thoughts begged to be spoken. His teeth pressed into the tongue that longed to lash out. He was pressing his anger back, refusing to let it explode on the one friend that hadn't left him.
But when Yunho touched his shoulder, the self-control broke. The arm immediately jerked, pushing the hand away with a wide swing. Against his will and wishes, his body pushed itself into a sitting position, and then he was on his feet, eyes filled to the brim with bitterness. The rage rushed up his throat, and he coated Yunho with a wave of incensed words.
"STOP. Just stop. Stop trying to be JaeJoong hyung. You never pranced around the kitchen like an idiot before, and you don't have to now that he's left. And stop waking me in the morning by imitating Junsu-hyung in the bathroom. He never did that to me." His face was red from both embarrassment and the fiery base of his words. "We see them! We go places with them! Yoochun hyung bought us ramen three damn days ago! Do you not realise how much I HATE the way you are?"
It was the loudest the apartment had been in quite some time. The words bounced off the walls, splattering the apartment with an air of unease. Changmin's raspy shouts had shocked Yunho into a horrified silence, and he simply stood where he was, one hand still held up as if the other man hadn't moved from where he was and he was going to give touching his arm a second try. Chest rising and falling rather rapidly, Changmin glared at the back of the couch. The shame following his outburst mixed easily with his rage, and a wave of nausea rushed through him.
"Changm-"
The hurt evident in Yunho's voice tore at his heart, and he finally looked at the hyung he had just unleashed on. The sadness was littered across his features.
"Don't. Just... don't." He was quieter this time. His words were even slightly disjointed as his throat closed in upon itself. "You're... you're driving me insane, you know? Acting like them, trying to make it like they've not left." His voice gave slightly, cracking from fatigue, overuse, and general upset. "They're not here anymore. You're making it worse. Just... can't you just be you?"
His gaze had flickered, moved from place to place as he spoke. If he'd focused on Yunho, it would have given out completely, and the words would have driven him to tears for their inability to be spoken. However, the pleading eyes moved back to Yunho's face as he finished all that he had to say. The angry words were spent. His stomach went rather abruptly cold. The back of his eyes prickled dangerously. Yunho had barely moved, save to lower his outstretched arm. His face gradually turned more and more toward the floor, avoiding the searching looks of the shaking younger man.
Changmin had been pulling away from him for a while. He'd been quiet when it was just the two of them, moreso than usual. He'd eaten quicker, retired to his room earlier and earlier. But Yunho hadn't realised that... it was he who was doing this. He hadn't realised that by being bigger, louder... by being more his missing members than himself... he'd been causing it. He'd been hurting rather than helping. And Changmin hadn't said a word.
The silence before now was nothing compared to that which stretched between them now. As the minutes added up, the maknae's eyes burned ever more, and he felt the unbearable urge to hide. His room would be a safe haven. He could lock the door, turn the music up, and stew in his own inner turmoil. Which was something he was not used to doing, at all, but damnit, there was a first time for everything. It was either that, or go out and drink himself blind and stupid, but somehow he was pretty sure that waking up to that in the morning would make the situation even worse.
His first timid steps sped him into a hasty walk as he circled the couch and passed Yunho. The space between them, he thought, was wide enough - he could surreptitiously look at Yunho's face as he passed, and if the man had descended into his own aggression, he was far enough away that he couldn't hit too hard should he lash out at him.
Apparently the space wasn't wide enough. Changmin could see the crushed look on the leader's face, and he hurriedly looked away and continued on his path toward his room. However, a hand snapped out and wrapped around his forearm, fingers tight against his skin and unwilling to let go. He took another step, but the grip did not yield and let him go, and he stopped where he was, left arm stretched out behind him, right hanging limply at his side. Shoulders slumped, but he did not turn. Yunho was staring holes into the ashamed back.
"Why?" Yunho demanded, body turned not quite enough to face the one he was now speaking to. "Why did you wait so long to say anything? You've been letting this build up, haven't you. Just living with it and not saying a word to me about it. Are you some kind of masochist, Changmin? You'd rather live unhappily than speak your mind? You'd rather let it fill you up until you're ready to explode? Why didn't you SAY anything?" The shoulders shook, and he gritted his teeth. "You have no right to cry over this. None at all, so stop. Are you really that closed up, that you can't even express yourself to me? We've known each other for EIGHT YEARS, Changmin. Eight years, and you still don't tell me what's in your head until it's boiling over?"
The shaking was a little more pronounced this time. The slender shoulders quaked, and Changmin let out an altogether terrifying sound. The sob lodged itself in his throat, leading to it being released as a strange squeaking sound, and he gave another tug on his captive arm. His eyes burned to unbearable heights. He felt the first hot splash fall off his eyelashes and internally berated himself for it. How long had it been since he had cried in front of another person? The emotional mask that he'd been wearing for such a long time was slipping, and he was woefully inadequate at expressing exactly what was pressing against the wrong side of his ribs, creating an explosive pressure inside his chest that was going to leave him ripped into pieces.
"Let go," he murmured, voice lacking the strength it had had minutes before. The fingers only tightened.
"No."
Rubbing the heel of his free hand against his eyes, he took a step forward, pulling his arm along. His body refused to be held back, and he took another step, arm muscles clenching and forcing Yunho to take a step with him. This display, the battle of wills, continued as Changmin moved toward the kitchen. It was a large, open place, with no walls separating it from the living room; the bedrooms lay just past it. If he made it to his... he could slam the door on Yunho's arm, and force him to let go. He'd regret it, but... he needed to not be around him right then.
What Changmin didn't expect was that when the reached the kitchen, Yunho would stop trying to hold him back. That one arm would wrap around his middle, pressing against the bottom of his ribs as Yunho slammed his back against the island that separated the kitchen from the other room. The leader gripped the counter on either side of where his youngest charge stood, arms blocking his escape. With his stance, he was shorter than usual when standing next to Changmin, but his dark eyes nonetheless stared up at him angrily.
"I asked you WHY."
He was not used to being manhandled. At least not like this. Changmin drew a ragged breath, the cold marble counter pressing into his back as attempted to shrink away from the waves of exasperation being unleashed on him. There wasn't really anywhere to go. The uncomfortable proximity only served to make his stomach twist again, and he struggled to just continue pulling air into his lungs. His eyes searched for anywhere that Yunho wasn't, and his face turned away from the piercing stare.
"Leave me go, hyung." The utterance had grown even weaker than before. This wasn't how things were supposed to go, ever. He had been the angry one. He was the one that had the explosive temper. Yunho was supposed to just... let him walk away. He wasn't supposed to ask questions like THIS. He was supposed to let Changmin go, let him curl up in his room with his headphones and his escapist behaviour.
There was a beat of silence, and the flames of rage grew ever higher in Yunho's eyes. With sudden movements and painful force, he grabbed Changmin's shirt and pushed him sideways, throwing him to the floor. Normally, the maknae would have the will to fight back. He would take a swing at his hyung, get him to back off so he could quietly move away. The long day, and all of this emotional explosion, had taken his strength, however, and he couldn't summon up the urge to even TRY to hit Yunho back. Now on his back on the floor, his muscles throbbing faintly as his back and arm tingled with pain, he simply stared at the ceiling.
"Goddamn it Shim Changmin, answer my question."
Guilt. There was a sudden rush of it, washing over Yunho as he stood there, staring down at Changmin. He hadn't started this. He hadn't wanted this fight. He didn't want it to continue. Jung Yunho wasn't one to abuse people in such ways, especially those that he cared deeply for. So the sight of the twenty-two year old curled on the floor... he felt suddenly ill.
What was he doing? Why was he... the irrational anger was slowly dissapating, and Yunho was left standing as cold as Changmin had been. He still felt so, so wronged by the obvious lack of trust that Changmin had in him, but... to this point? Was it worth hurting him further? He'd already 'driven him insane' with his actions. This was just layering on another level of injury.
Expression softening slightly, Yunho slowly knelt down next to Changmin. The man's eyes closed in response to this movement, and the guilt doubled. Changmin thought Yunho was going to hit him. The hyung slowly began to feel a bit more monstrous.
"Changmin..." He couldn't bring himself to apologise. He couldn't bring himself to even speak another word. One hand rubbed Changmin's upper arm, the only comfort Yunho would offer his offender. The hand slipped and very cautiously touched the maknae's face, dislodging a tear from his eyelashes and carrying it away before it could spill onto his cheek. Drawing an even breath, Yunho pushed himself to his feet again and walked away. The door to his room closed with a quiet click.
This was the end, Changmin thought as he lay there on the floor. This was the last of it. Three of his best friends were not nearly as constant in his life as before, and now... now he'd pushed the remaining one away. The utter absence of Yunho at that moment was the match that lit the bomb that had been quietly building in his chest. Alone, body and mind numb, the man curled into himself right there on the floor... and cried.
Yes. It's long. Comment? And I don't know where the hell to post it, so Imma keep it all here and my F-List can just... enjoy it themselves. And I'll make it public if you wanna link other people to it, I guess? XD