[FanFic] The Way You Aren't {Chapter 3}
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 Three
The comfortable silence in the mornings never lasted for as long as they'd liked. A small popup in the corner of the computer screen alerted Changmin that it was time for him to get dressed; he was supposed to be leaving for work in half an hour. Considering he'd grown no less picky about his appearance over the years, this meant that he had to get up right then. The coffee was nearly gone, and what was left was too cold to taste good while drinking. Still... he didn't feel like moving. He never felt like moving lately. Yunho's arm had slipped around his waist almost automatically. The warmth of the arm through the sweater was welcome against his skin, and drew goosebumps from the rest of his bare flesh. He ignored the blinking bubble, head on Yunho's shoulder, and greedily fed off the warmth the older man freely offered.
"You'll be late." When had Yunho grown more responsible about work than Changmin? He ignored the quiet words and remained snug against his lover's side. Yunho allowed this, almost begrudgingly, for another few minutes, before he stopped clicking through the news results of the day and turned his attention to the unwilling young man. "Shim Changmin, do you want to be late today? You know they'll be terribly upset with you."
When Changmin turned his face toward Yunho's, his eyes were that of a little kid. His entire face was covered with pleading, childish looks. At such a close proximity, mere inches away, the effect was amplified.
"Hyuuuuuuung. I don't want to work today."
Yunho melted. Changmin was so good at getting his own way sometimes, with the faces he pulled. He patted the man's cheek gently, eyes soft, before a grin parted his lips and he gave Changmin a playful push away. He let go, only one hand remaining clenched onto Yunho's sweatshirt, and let out a whine of protest before his own grin resurfaced, setting his eyes uneven and lighting his face with youth.
"Go to work, Mr. Shim," Yunho murmured, long fingers closing over those wrapped into his sleeve. "I'll be here when you get home."
"Fineeeeee." Changmin let go, his hand slipping out from beneath Yunho's, and hurried off, disappearing through the kitchen doorway. A smile lingering on his lips, the old man rubbed over the spot the fingers had caught on, straightening the sleeve, before he too stood from his seat, carrying the coffee mug to the sink.
Changmin never seemed to clean up his own things. Yunho had started to notice this recently; often, he found himself rinsing out a coffee cup, or putting a plate into the dishwasher. It wasn't much, but it was a change from how things had been before. His own need to keep things tidy had seemed to skyrocket after the other two had left the dorm. It was this need that had led him more than once on a search through the dorms, to find the dishes that Changmin had forgotten and abandoned in places they did not belong.
More often than not, a few could have been found stacked on his desk, the result of snacking while he worked at his computer. Yunho noticed it for the first time when he opened the door of the maknae's room the morning after the incident with Minho and Kyuhyun. Changmin's alarm had been going off steadily for about fifteen minutes, intercut with a banging sound and heavy coughing. Frowning as he stuck his head out the bathroom door, half-dressed, he stared at the bedroom door, slightly worried. Changmin had been wandering around for an hour last night, out in the cold, and that was after he'd just come off a week of working himself heavily, both physically and mentally.
As he nudged the door open, the figure curled up in the bed coughed again, one arm reaching toward the alarm clock and failing to reach far enough to turn it off. His open palm slapped down on the wooden nightstand and went limp again as he drifted back out of consciousness. Yunho's frown deepened; he stepped over the jeans that Changmin had abandoned in the middle of the floor and quietly switched off the ringing clock. He tucked the outstretched arm back under the blanket, not missing the fact that the skin was hot to the touch, before picking up Changmin's cell phone from the cluttered desk and slipping out of the room.
There were more than a few things scheduled in the device, which was why Yunho had removed it. Going through the list, one by one, he called the person associated with each task. No, Changmin would not be in today. No, nothing was seriously wrong. No, he could not possibly come in, sorry. Most of the contacts were more than agreeable, and asked that their well wishes be sent along, but the recording producer was just not having any of it. He demanded to speak to Changmin at least three times, refused to take Yunho's excuse, and threatened to call their manager. In the end, Yunho told him to do just that; the manager was more likely to be able to handle the surly tech.
Yunho himself had had no plans that day; his activities were far less intense than Changmin's currently were. He'd planned to spend time in the gym, but... well, that could wait until later. It wasn't like it was going anywhere.
Slipping back into Changmin's room, he returned the phone to the desk before eyeing the scattered dishes. Really, Changmin. It wasn't so hard to take things into the kitchen, was it? Even though Changmin's room was the farthest from the kitchen, it wouldn't have killed him to carry them out. The leader silently blamed it on JaeJoong; upon their moving into this dorm, the small man had insisted that Changmin take the room farthest from the kitchen, in an attempt to curb his midnight snack attacks. It hadn't worked, obviously, and Changmin had simply been too busy to bother changing rooms now that the closer one was empty.
The maknae shifted under the covers as Yunho stacked the plates and cups that littered the desktop. Yunho was bewildered when he turned to find Changmin sitting up and staring at him; his alarm clock hadn't woken him, but some dishes clinking had? Changmin's life was truly ruled by his stomach, wasn't it.
"Wh... what are you doing?" His voice was hoarse, and he coughed in an attempt to clear his throat. It didn't help very much at all.
"You stole a bunch of our dishes and left them in here," Yunho pointed out, stating the obvious as he held up the stack of three plates in his hands. "I was just... taking them..."
Changmin's eyes flicked to the clock, and Yunho watched as a look of panic crossed his face. He was late. LATE. Struggling to disentangle himself from the blankets wrapped around his legs, he set his hyung with an accusing stare.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Finally getting loose, he stumbled from the bed and shoved open the closet. The producer... the producer was already angry with him for being late before. He had so many things to do today. Staying late at the recording studio meant being late for half of them.
Yunho was simply staring back at him, his look of confusion melting into amusement. Was this some kind of payback? Twisted revenge for his having started this stupid fight and awkwardness? Would Yunho really stoop that low?
"Go back to bed, Changmin." He turned the plates in his hand, thumb running along the edge of the topmost one as Changmin grabbed a pair of balled up socks and threw them toward the bed, adding them to the things he'd hastily chosen already. The younger man froze and turned a dangerous glare at his hyung. "You're not going into work today. You're sick."
...Yunho had called him in sick? His throat had been a bit sore this past week. He'd abused himself vocally almost as much as he'd done physically, so it really wasn't a surprise, but he'd been determined to spend the majority of his days in the recording studio, to avoid being at home. Part of him felt like going in anyway, if only so he could watch the sound technicians fiddle with this and that, adjusting vocal levels and everything else they did to make his voice sound better. The rest of him, however, was almost relieved at this. He was such a workaholic that he drove himself into the ground sometimes. His hyungs had always been his support; they stopped him before he pushed himself over the edge.
One hand rubbing his throat, Changmin averted his eyes and trudged back to his bed. While he really didn't feel like staying at home... he had to, now. If Yunho was telling him he wasn't going to work... well. He wouldn't get out of the dorms. More than once, the hyungs had stopped him. Even if he was bigger than Yunho now, that didn't mean he could easily get past and overpower the man.
He spent most of the day in his bed, curled up under the blankets as he drifted in and out of sleep. He pulled his laptop onto the corner of the mattress at intervals, clicking through news articles and a few emails sent by those whose appointments Yunho had cancelled. Several times he got up to wander to the bathroom, or into the kitchen to scavenge for food. Each time, he'd find Yunho in the living room, stretched out on the couch as he lounged and watched some television show Changmin had never had time to see, or in the kitchen himself, making something to eat. He knew when the maknae's stomach would force him from the room. Yunho always pressed some warm and not particularly tasty tea into his hands, which Changmin drank without question. His coughing, at least, had stopped making his chest hurt.
It was well into the evening when Changmin emerged from his room once more, over-large sweatshirt wrapped around his skinny body. Yunho had been exercising in the living room shortly before, his own way of making up having skipped out on his plan to go to the gym; the slighty-sweaty man was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaned against the cushion with his arms across his knees. His eyes attentively watched the flickering screen, not even turning toward Changmin at the disruption his sitting down caused.
JaeJoong, Yoochun, and Junsu were waving merrily at them.
"Their new music video came out today," Yunho murmured, still not looking at the tall man curled up just above him. "It's good. There's a lot of positive comments about it on the internet."
Changmin was silent. He couldn't stop watching the screen; the video taunted him, leaving a stinging feeling in his stomach. It was almost as if he'd swallowed a hive full of bees, and they were trying to take him apart from inside so they could escape.
He was happy for them. Really.
But he couldn't shake the feeling of being left behind.
"JaeJoong called earlier. He wanted to know if you'd seen it, he said he'd called you but you didn't answer your phone... I told him you were sick." Yunho finally looked at him. "Feel any better?"
Silence. Junsu held out a long note, his handsome face full of concentration. The white background flickered, fading slightly as the scene changed and Junsu sat with his back pressed against a headboard. The light smile on his lips... Changmin's eyes prickled painfully.
"Changmin..." The maknae wiped hastily at his eyes.
"I'm fine."
Yunho had already proved that he wasn't stupid. Not moving from where he was, he reached out and patted Changmin's foot, ignoring the fact that it was ice-cold. Stupid stuffed up boy trying to pretend that he could shut the world out. Hadn't they already been over this? He couldn't.
"It hurts." Yoochun smirked at them, voice soft as he spoke a line of English. "I feel like I'm being stabbed in the heart."
Changmin kept his eyes away from the screen now, gaze focused on his knee as it pressed against his chest. The song seemed painfully long. The voices of three of his best friends filled the room in a way they never had before. Yunho was right. It hurt. It hurt like nothing else.
"They're there... without us." His throat didn't want to cooperate yet, still thick with illness. Upset had added extra difficulty to speaking; his voice sounded strained. "We're... not there."
Never had the separation felt so real. So raw, and agonising. He'd thought it had hurt when they'd left the dorm. Hearing their three voices... hearing them singing, without his own voice, without Yunho's... there were no words for this ache. Pressing his forehead against his knees, eyes closed tight, he grabbed Yunho's hand from his foot and held onto it.
"Hyung..." his voice was muffled, but Yunho could hear the emotionally battered tone. "You... don't leave me."
Whether it was because he was sick, or because of the song that had just ended, Yunho didn't know. He supposed it could be a combination of the two. Or maybe he was just tired of walling himself off from everyone. Still, the fingers clinging desperately to his own were a hell of a lot more than he'd had from Changmin lately. The tears and childish need in his voice pushed Yunho's own hurt down. This was his dongsaeng. His youngest charge.
His only charge, now.
"I'm not," he murmured, pushing himself off the floor and onto the cushion next to Changmin. Hastily, he switched his left hand for the right, and wrapped his arm around the young man's shoulders. He was still far too warm, and probably had a fever... "Don't cry, Changmin. Hyung's not going anywhere."
The two that had been walking the path, together and yet still so very alone, not looking at or speaking to each other, silently took each other's hands again.
My chapters seem excessively short now... kindly let me know what you think? ^^;; I feel like my writing's getting worse and worse as I go...
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 Three
The comfortable silence in the mornings never lasted for as long as they'd liked. A small popup in the corner of the computer screen alerted Changmin that it was time for him to get dressed; he was supposed to be leaving for work in half an hour. Considering he'd grown no less picky about his appearance over the years, this meant that he had to get up right then. The coffee was nearly gone, and what was left was too cold to taste good while drinking. Still... he didn't feel like moving. He never felt like moving lately. Yunho's arm had slipped around his waist almost automatically. The warmth of the arm through the sweater was welcome against his skin, and drew goosebumps from the rest of his bare flesh. He ignored the blinking bubble, head on Yunho's shoulder, and greedily fed off the warmth the older man freely offered.
"You'll be late." When had Yunho grown more responsible about work than Changmin? He ignored the quiet words and remained snug against his lover's side. Yunho allowed this, almost begrudgingly, for another few minutes, before he stopped clicking through the news results of the day and turned his attention to the unwilling young man. "Shim Changmin, do you want to be late today? You know they'll be terribly upset with you."
When Changmin turned his face toward Yunho's, his eyes were that of a little kid. His entire face was covered with pleading, childish looks. At such a close proximity, mere inches away, the effect was amplified.
"Hyuuuuuuung. I don't want to work today."
Yunho melted. Changmin was so good at getting his own way sometimes, with the faces he pulled. He patted the man's cheek gently, eyes soft, before a grin parted his lips and he gave Changmin a playful push away. He let go, only one hand remaining clenched onto Yunho's sweatshirt, and let out a whine of protest before his own grin resurfaced, setting his eyes uneven and lighting his face with youth.
"Go to work, Mr. Shim," Yunho murmured, long fingers closing over those wrapped into his sleeve. "I'll be here when you get home."
"Fineeeeee." Changmin let go, his hand slipping out from beneath Yunho's, and hurried off, disappearing through the kitchen doorway. A smile lingering on his lips, the old man rubbed over the spot the fingers had caught on, straightening the sleeve, before he too stood from his seat, carrying the coffee mug to the sink.
Changmin never seemed to clean up his own things. Yunho had started to notice this recently; often, he found himself rinsing out a coffee cup, or putting a plate into the dishwasher. It wasn't much, but it was a change from how things had been before. His own need to keep things tidy had seemed to skyrocket after the other two had left the dorm. It was this need that had led him more than once on a search through the dorms, to find the dishes that Changmin had forgotten and abandoned in places they did not belong.
More often than not, a few could have been found stacked on his desk, the result of snacking while he worked at his computer. Yunho noticed it for the first time when he opened the door of the maknae's room the morning after the incident with Minho and Kyuhyun. Changmin's alarm had been going off steadily for about fifteen minutes, intercut with a banging sound and heavy coughing. Frowning as he stuck his head out the bathroom door, half-dressed, he stared at the bedroom door, slightly worried. Changmin had been wandering around for an hour last night, out in the cold, and that was after he'd just come off a week of working himself heavily, both physically and mentally.
As he nudged the door open, the figure curled up in the bed coughed again, one arm reaching toward the alarm clock and failing to reach far enough to turn it off. His open palm slapped down on the wooden nightstand and went limp again as he drifted back out of consciousness. Yunho's frown deepened; he stepped over the jeans that Changmin had abandoned in the middle of the floor and quietly switched off the ringing clock. He tucked the outstretched arm back under the blanket, not missing the fact that the skin was hot to the touch, before picking up Changmin's cell phone from the cluttered desk and slipping out of the room.
There were more than a few things scheduled in the device, which was why Yunho had removed it. Going through the list, one by one, he called the person associated with each task. No, Changmin would not be in today. No, nothing was seriously wrong. No, he could not possibly come in, sorry. Most of the contacts were more than agreeable, and asked that their well wishes be sent along, but the recording producer was just not having any of it. He demanded to speak to Changmin at least three times, refused to take Yunho's excuse, and threatened to call their manager. In the end, Yunho told him to do just that; the manager was more likely to be able to handle the surly tech.
Yunho himself had had no plans that day; his activities were far less intense than Changmin's currently were. He'd planned to spend time in the gym, but... well, that could wait until later. It wasn't like it was going anywhere.
Slipping back into Changmin's room, he returned the phone to the desk before eyeing the scattered dishes. Really, Changmin. It wasn't so hard to take things into the kitchen, was it? Even though Changmin's room was the farthest from the kitchen, it wouldn't have killed him to carry them out. The leader silently blamed it on JaeJoong; upon their moving into this dorm, the small man had insisted that Changmin take the room farthest from the kitchen, in an attempt to curb his midnight snack attacks. It hadn't worked, obviously, and Changmin had simply been too busy to bother changing rooms now that the closer one was empty.
The maknae shifted under the covers as Yunho stacked the plates and cups that littered the desktop. Yunho was bewildered when he turned to find Changmin sitting up and staring at him; his alarm clock hadn't woken him, but some dishes clinking had? Changmin's life was truly ruled by his stomach, wasn't it.
"Wh... what are you doing?" His voice was hoarse, and he coughed in an attempt to clear his throat. It didn't help very much at all.
"You stole a bunch of our dishes and left them in here," Yunho pointed out, stating the obvious as he held up the stack of three plates in his hands. "I was just... taking them..."
Changmin's eyes flicked to the clock, and Yunho watched as a look of panic crossed his face. He was late. LATE. Struggling to disentangle himself from the blankets wrapped around his legs, he set his hyung with an accusing stare.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Finally getting loose, he stumbled from the bed and shoved open the closet. The producer... the producer was already angry with him for being late before. He had so many things to do today. Staying late at the recording studio meant being late for half of them.
Yunho was simply staring back at him, his look of confusion melting into amusement. Was this some kind of payback? Twisted revenge for his having started this stupid fight and awkwardness? Would Yunho really stoop that low?
"Go back to bed, Changmin." He turned the plates in his hand, thumb running along the edge of the topmost one as Changmin grabbed a pair of balled up socks and threw them toward the bed, adding them to the things he'd hastily chosen already. The younger man froze and turned a dangerous glare at his hyung. "You're not going into work today. You're sick."
...Yunho had called him in sick? His throat had been a bit sore this past week. He'd abused himself vocally almost as much as he'd done physically, so it really wasn't a surprise, but he'd been determined to spend the majority of his days in the recording studio, to avoid being at home. Part of him felt like going in anyway, if only so he could watch the sound technicians fiddle with this and that, adjusting vocal levels and everything else they did to make his voice sound better. The rest of him, however, was almost relieved at this. He was such a workaholic that he drove himself into the ground sometimes. His hyungs had always been his support; they stopped him before he pushed himself over the edge.
One hand rubbing his throat, Changmin averted his eyes and trudged back to his bed. While he really didn't feel like staying at home... he had to, now. If Yunho was telling him he wasn't going to work... well. He wouldn't get out of the dorms. More than once, the hyungs had stopped him. Even if he was bigger than Yunho now, that didn't mean he could easily get past and overpower the man.
He spent most of the day in his bed, curled up under the blankets as he drifted in and out of sleep. He pulled his laptop onto the corner of the mattress at intervals, clicking through news articles and a few emails sent by those whose appointments Yunho had cancelled. Several times he got up to wander to the bathroom, or into the kitchen to scavenge for food. Each time, he'd find Yunho in the living room, stretched out on the couch as he lounged and watched some television show Changmin had never had time to see, or in the kitchen himself, making something to eat. He knew when the maknae's stomach would force him from the room. Yunho always pressed some warm and not particularly tasty tea into his hands, which Changmin drank without question. His coughing, at least, had stopped making his chest hurt.
It was well into the evening when Changmin emerged from his room once more, over-large sweatshirt wrapped around his skinny body. Yunho had been exercising in the living room shortly before, his own way of making up having skipped out on his plan to go to the gym; the slighty-sweaty man was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaned against the cushion with his arms across his knees. His eyes attentively watched the flickering screen, not even turning toward Changmin at the disruption his sitting down caused.
JaeJoong, Yoochun, and Junsu were waving merrily at them.
"Their new music video came out today," Yunho murmured, still not looking at the tall man curled up just above him. "It's good. There's a lot of positive comments about it on the internet."
Changmin was silent. He couldn't stop watching the screen; the video taunted him, leaving a stinging feeling in his stomach. It was almost as if he'd swallowed a hive full of bees, and they were trying to take him apart from inside so they could escape.
He was happy for them. Really.
But he couldn't shake the feeling of being left behind.
"JaeJoong called earlier. He wanted to know if you'd seen it, he said he'd called you but you didn't answer your phone... I told him you were sick." Yunho finally looked at him. "Feel any better?"
Silence. Junsu held out a long note, his handsome face full of concentration. The white background flickered, fading slightly as the scene changed and Junsu sat with his back pressed against a headboard. The light smile on his lips... Changmin's eyes prickled painfully.
"Changmin..." The maknae wiped hastily at his eyes.
"I'm fine."
Yunho had already proved that he wasn't stupid. Not moving from where he was, he reached out and patted Changmin's foot, ignoring the fact that it was ice-cold. Stupid stuffed up boy trying to pretend that he could shut the world out. Hadn't they already been over this? He couldn't.
"It hurts." Yoochun smirked at them, voice soft as he spoke a line of English. "I feel like I'm being stabbed in the heart."
Changmin kept his eyes away from the screen now, gaze focused on his knee as it pressed against his chest. The song seemed painfully long. The voices of three of his best friends filled the room in a way they never had before. Yunho was right. It hurt. It hurt like nothing else.
"They're there... without us." His throat didn't want to cooperate yet, still thick with illness. Upset had added extra difficulty to speaking; his voice sounded strained. "We're... not there."
Never had the separation felt so real. So raw, and agonising. He'd thought it had hurt when they'd left the dorm. Hearing their three voices... hearing them singing, without his own voice, without Yunho's... there were no words for this ache. Pressing his forehead against his knees, eyes closed tight, he grabbed Yunho's hand from his foot and held onto it.
"Hyung..." his voice was muffled, but Yunho could hear the emotionally battered tone. "You... don't leave me."
Whether it was because he was sick, or because of the song that had just ended, Yunho didn't know. He supposed it could be a combination of the two. Or maybe he was just tired of walling himself off from everyone. Still, the fingers clinging desperately to his own were a hell of a lot more than he'd had from Changmin lately. The tears and childish need in his voice pushed Yunho's own hurt down. This was his dongsaeng. His youngest charge.
His only charge, now.
"I'm not," he murmured, pushing himself off the floor and onto the cushion next to Changmin. Hastily, he switched his left hand for the right, and wrapped his arm around the young man's shoulders. He was still far too warm, and probably had a fever... "Don't cry, Changmin. Hyung's not going anywhere."
The two that had been walking the path, together and yet still so very alone, not looking at or speaking to each other, silently took each other's hands again.
My chapters seem excessively short now... kindly let me know what you think? ^^;; I feel like my writing's getting worse and worse as I go...