paper cranes (8/?)
paper cranes (8/?)
jae-centric, jaesu
pg
angst, AU
paralysed!jae verse
jaejoong learns the price of forgiveness.
viii. and i just ran out of band aids; i don't even know where to start; cause you can bandage the damage; you never really can fix a heart
junsu left. junsu left. junsu left.
it has become his neverending mantra as jaejoong crosses out yet another meaningless number off his calendar, and dully notes that it's a few days since the fight. he grips the black felt pen unnecessarily tight, feeling a whirlwind of emotions. but he knows that there's no one else to blame but himself.
everyday, he wakes up to the empty house, dread knotting and unknotting in succession. he brushes his teeth mechanically, eyes stuck on his reflection, dull and black and empty. he bangs his door loud because the silence is suffocating- he's tried everything. he has grabbed at the bottle of pills that's in the bathroom cabinet and count the pills one by one. he has sat on the cold floor, eyes staring upwards at the black-and-white razor sitting innocently next to his toothbrush for god-knows-how-long. he has braved the cold chilly wind in the dead of the night, his legs swinging aimlessly as he sat at the edge of the rooftop, as he watches the bustling street down there go on and on.
it's almost funny, he thinks. once junsu's out of his grasp, there's no one else around him. am i that much of a loner? he thinks and wonders and ponders and scoffs and laughs-
at first, he feels like it is all a bad dream, a nightmare. he closes his eyes and pinches his arm really hard, because this is not funny, and he really wants things to be back to normal. the problem is, he has no idea himself what normal constitutes. he's a little surprised that junsu resorts to ditching him altogether, because he doesn't think he's that much of a bad guy. he's done things to make junsu angry but no- nothing big, he thinks. i'm not that much of a bastard.
when he wakes up alone the day after, he's angry. he thrashes junsu's room like a mad man, and the room is a mess. the mirror is cracked, clothes littered, paper flying here and there- who the fuck do you think you are to treat me like this you asshole? he jabs his finger at the picture of him and junsu, still taped at the white board, alone and lonely. seeing junsu's unmoving smile, big and happy- it riles him up even more. he rips all the pictures apart, all now mere shreds of paper and colour. he smirks in dark room, but when he steps out, he's not satisfied.
he's tried to contact yoochun- he knows that the man probably knows where junsu is. he even thinks that maybe yoochun's hiding junsu from him too. he leaves messages, one after another, on yoochun's home phone, yoochun's mobile phone, everywhere. he even tried locating junsu at the university, making sure to avoid hyunjoong like the man's a dangerous disease. he texts yoochun with pleas- yoochunnie, please tell me where junsu is. i know you know. yoochunnie, fuck you, i don't deserve this, come on, tell me where junsu is, fuck you. park yoochun, if you value your life, you will call me back after this like a man and tell me where the fuck junsu went to, or i will personally go to your house and make you tell. i promise i've changed. please. fuck. tell junsu i've changed. i'll be a better man to him. please. this is not fair. i need him. yoochun never replied.
by day five, he's resigned. the telly flickers a myriad of colours, all reflecting off the planes of his face, now a little emaciated. he's done begging, grovelling like a dog. he doesn't care anymore, he doesn't want to care anymore. junsu knows where he is, should the other ever decide to come back. he doesn't shower, he doesn't sleep, he doesn't eat- he's a mess. he's a wreck. when it's cold, he burrows into junsu's blanket, wrapping himself warm, hugging junsu's picture. he's lucky to find one that survived his angry fit, he cried tears of joy and kisses the picture like no other. when it's dark, he trudges lifelessly into junsu's room and falls into the unmade bed. he lets salty tears fall without shame, and sobs out loud, always asking junsu, junsu, junsu, please where are you?
now that it's day seven, he's shaken awake by ferocious growling in his stomach and suddenly realization dawns on him like a cold mop of rainwater. junsu's gone. he's not coming back, not anytime soon. he tries to stifle a sob by biting down onto his knuckles, but the tears come anyway. little droplets evolve into full, torrential floods, and he cannot help but bawl his eyes out. out of the watery slits, he sees junsu's favourite tee still hanging lifelessly in the laundry basket. he crawls to it, wiping the tears away, again and again, and he holds it to his chest in a crushing grip.
come back, junsu- he whispers.
***
his eyes are definitely red behind the shades. jaejoong sits still, sight trained on the cold mocha shekerato, grande glass. he knows that it's sweet, too sweet for his tooth, but who gives a damn. he doesn't know what prompted him to order junsu's favourite drink. there's a crushed paper on the table, and he reads the words scribbled on it again for the umpteenth time.
kim youngmi
274 ssangbuk-ri, buyeo-eup, gongju,chungcheongnam-do.
his mind is made up; he crumples the paper in his pale fist and stands up, exiting the cafe. he leaves the glass untouched, and drops of water drip down and wets the serviette.
***
i know this person. jaejoong thinks, mind wonderfully chaotic.
he lets the woman usher him in, frantic and happy and blubbering- he understands that this visit is long overdue. he sweeps in the appearance of the hallway, the living room; the walls are painted of warm cream colour, easy on the eyes and deceptively homey. picture frames adorn every single inch of walls, and he's not surprised to see his own face in almost half of them. he doesn't realize that he's suddenly in front of one of pictures, studying the faces that stare back at him. the room is silent, but he can hear his host tinkering away with glasses and tearing plastic wrappings in the kitchen.
he traces the smiling faces-
umma. appa. me. sangmi nuna. joohyun nuna. ganghee nuna. youngmi nuna- he whispers.
jae?
the soft voice is right behind him, and he doesn't object against the hand that's on his shoulder.
nuna. he whispers. i've been bad. i'm sorry. his eyes and heart stings. i'm sorry-
don't be. you're back now. right?
he turns around at the soft push, and lets his older sister place her cold shaking hands on his cheeks. he sees the doubt, the love, the need in the brown eyes, and feels guilt sucker-punch him like a bitch.
yes. of course. he smiles, certain and sure.
***
jaejoong blows at his long bangs in annoyance. he sees the spotless living room, restored back to order after his outburst. he peeks into his room, and then into junsu's room, happy with the clean sight that meets him right back.
he's spent the whole day cleaning up the mess he'd created after coming back from gongju. parting with youngmi nuna had been a hard business; she's insisted him to stay over the night, but he couldn't. he doesn't want junsu to come home to a locked door. he says so to his sister, confessing and explaining that he's screwed things up, but he'll do everything to make things right. she has nodded to him, telling him that he's grown up. he remembers her words clearly- he's no longer the spoiled brat who wants things done his way. he teases her that he's not that young anymore, a double-edged sword; and she laughs back at him, unrestrained and amused, and he really is certain things is going to be better soon.
at present, he feels like a housewife waiting for her husband to come home as he studies his reflection. black sweatpants and white wifebeater, covered by knee-length apron.
yeah, a good wife i am. he winks at the mirror, a little sad, a little wistful, a little hopeful. and i'm waiting for my husband to come home now. i'll wait for junsu to come home.
you'll come home, right junsu-yah? he speaks out, loud and jarring in the empty room.
tbc
ps: woot woot! this update is long overdue and i'm sorry ;~~~~~; i was a bit unstable in the head, but now everything seems to be going okay, and i'll be more diligent in posting ^^b comments/crits/grammatical correction ftw! ;D something here in this chapter will be confusing, and hopefully it'll be explained in the interlude coming next! ;)
pps: i finally got my master ficlist up and running yeayyyy~~ i feel very accomplished, lol. it took quite a chunk of time trying to sort out the links, lmao. drop by if you guys have time!
ppps: merry christmas and happy new year to those celebrating it! /throws confetti. i'm going to be getting my jyj-tvxq albums this monday, lol i've spent hundreds trying to finish up my collection. i feel so happy; and now i've got my eyes on other jyj expensive merch already xD
jae-centric, jaesu
pg
angst, AU
paralysed!jae verse
jaejoong learns the price of forgiveness.
viii. and i just ran out of band aids; i don't even know where to start; cause you can bandage the damage; you never really can fix a heart
junsu left. junsu left. junsu left.
it has become his neverending mantra as jaejoong crosses out yet another meaningless number off his calendar, and dully notes that it's a few days since the fight. he grips the black felt pen unnecessarily tight, feeling a whirlwind of emotions. but he knows that there's no one else to blame but himself.
everyday, he wakes up to the empty house, dread knotting and unknotting in succession. he brushes his teeth mechanically, eyes stuck on his reflection, dull and black and empty. he bangs his door loud because the silence is suffocating- he's tried everything. he has grabbed at the bottle of pills that's in the bathroom cabinet and count the pills one by one. he has sat on the cold floor, eyes staring upwards at the black-and-white razor sitting innocently next to his toothbrush for god-knows-how-long. he has braved the cold chilly wind in the dead of the night, his legs swinging aimlessly as he sat at the edge of the rooftop, as he watches the bustling street down there go on and on.
it's almost funny, he thinks. once junsu's out of his grasp, there's no one else around him. am i that much of a loner? he thinks and wonders and ponders and scoffs and laughs-
at first, he feels like it is all a bad dream, a nightmare. he closes his eyes and pinches his arm really hard, because this is not funny, and he really wants things to be back to normal. the problem is, he has no idea himself what normal constitutes. he's a little surprised that junsu resorts to ditching him altogether, because he doesn't think he's that much of a bad guy. he's done things to make junsu angry but no- nothing big, he thinks. i'm not that much of a bastard.
when he wakes up alone the day after, he's angry. he thrashes junsu's room like a mad man, and the room is a mess. the mirror is cracked, clothes littered, paper flying here and there- who the fuck do you think you are to treat me like this you asshole? he jabs his finger at the picture of him and junsu, still taped at the white board, alone and lonely. seeing junsu's unmoving smile, big and happy- it riles him up even more. he rips all the pictures apart, all now mere shreds of paper and colour. he smirks in dark room, but when he steps out, he's not satisfied.
he's tried to contact yoochun- he knows that the man probably knows where junsu is. he even thinks that maybe yoochun's hiding junsu from him too. he leaves messages, one after another, on yoochun's home phone, yoochun's mobile phone, everywhere. he even tried locating junsu at the university, making sure to avoid hyunjoong like the man's a dangerous disease. he texts yoochun with pleas- yoochunnie, please tell me where junsu is. i know you know. yoochunnie, fuck you, i don't deserve this, come on, tell me where junsu is, fuck you. park yoochun, if you value your life, you will call me back after this like a man and tell me where the fuck junsu went to, or i will personally go to your house and make you tell. i promise i've changed. please. fuck. tell junsu i've changed. i'll be a better man to him. please. this is not fair. i need him. yoochun never replied.
by day five, he's resigned. the telly flickers a myriad of colours, all reflecting off the planes of his face, now a little emaciated. he's done begging, grovelling like a dog. he doesn't care anymore, he doesn't want to care anymore. junsu knows where he is, should the other ever decide to come back. he doesn't shower, he doesn't sleep, he doesn't eat- he's a mess. he's a wreck. when it's cold, he burrows into junsu's blanket, wrapping himself warm, hugging junsu's picture. he's lucky to find one that survived his angry fit, he cried tears of joy and kisses the picture like no other. when it's dark, he trudges lifelessly into junsu's room and falls into the unmade bed. he lets salty tears fall without shame, and sobs out loud, always asking junsu, junsu, junsu, please where are you?
now that it's day seven, he's shaken awake by ferocious growling in his stomach and suddenly realization dawns on him like a cold mop of rainwater. junsu's gone. he's not coming back, not anytime soon. he tries to stifle a sob by biting down onto his knuckles, but the tears come anyway. little droplets evolve into full, torrential floods, and he cannot help but bawl his eyes out. out of the watery slits, he sees junsu's favourite tee still hanging lifelessly in the laundry basket. he crawls to it, wiping the tears away, again and again, and he holds it to his chest in a crushing grip.
come back, junsu- he whispers.
***
his eyes are definitely red behind the shades. jaejoong sits still, sight trained on the cold mocha shekerato, grande glass. he knows that it's sweet, too sweet for his tooth, but who gives a damn. he doesn't know what prompted him to order junsu's favourite drink. there's a crushed paper on the table, and he reads the words scribbled on it again for the umpteenth time.
kim youngmi
274 ssangbuk-ri, buyeo-eup, gongju,chungcheongnam-do.
his mind is made up; he crumples the paper in his pale fist and stands up, exiting the cafe. he leaves the glass untouched, and drops of water drip down and wets the serviette.
***
i know this person. jaejoong thinks, mind wonderfully chaotic.
he lets the woman usher him in, frantic and happy and blubbering- he understands that this visit is long overdue. he sweeps in the appearance of the hallway, the living room; the walls are painted of warm cream colour, easy on the eyes and deceptively homey. picture frames adorn every single inch of walls, and he's not surprised to see his own face in almost half of them. he doesn't realize that he's suddenly in front of one of pictures, studying the faces that stare back at him. the room is silent, but he can hear his host tinkering away with glasses and tearing plastic wrappings in the kitchen.
he traces the smiling faces-
umma. appa. me. sangmi nuna. joohyun nuna. ganghee nuna. youngmi nuna- he whispers.
jae?
the soft voice is right behind him, and he doesn't object against the hand that's on his shoulder.
nuna. he whispers. i've been bad. i'm sorry. his eyes and heart stings. i'm sorry-
don't be. you're back now. right?
he turns around at the soft push, and lets his older sister place her cold shaking hands on his cheeks. he sees the doubt, the love, the need in the brown eyes, and feels guilt sucker-punch him like a bitch.
yes. of course. he smiles, certain and sure.
***
jaejoong blows at his long bangs in annoyance. he sees the spotless living room, restored back to order after his outburst. he peeks into his room, and then into junsu's room, happy with the clean sight that meets him right back.
he's spent the whole day cleaning up the mess he'd created after coming back from gongju. parting with youngmi nuna had been a hard business; she's insisted him to stay over the night, but he couldn't. he doesn't want junsu to come home to a locked door. he says so to his sister, confessing and explaining that he's screwed things up, but he'll do everything to make things right. she has nodded to him, telling him that he's grown up. he remembers her words clearly- he's no longer the spoiled brat who wants things done his way. he teases her that he's not that young anymore, a double-edged sword; and she laughs back at him, unrestrained and amused, and he really is certain things is going to be better soon.
at present, he feels like a housewife waiting for her husband to come home as he studies his reflection. black sweatpants and white wifebeater, covered by knee-length apron.
yeah, a good wife i am. he winks at the mirror, a little sad, a little wistful, a little hopeful. and i'm waiting for my husband to come home now. i'll wait for junsu to come home.
you'll come home, right junsu-yah? he speaks out, loud and jarring in the empty room.
tbc
ps: woot woot! this update is long overdue and i'm sorry ;~~~~~; i was a bit unstable in the head, but now everything seems to be going okay, and i'll be more diligent in posting ^^b comments/crits/grammatical correction ftw! ;D something here in this chapter will be confusing, and hopefully it'll be explained in the interlude coming next! ;)
pps: i finally got my master ficlist up and running yeayyyy~~ i feel very accomplished, lol. it took quite a chunk of time trying to sort out the links, lmao. drop by if you guys have time!
ppps: merry christmas and happy new year to those celebrating it! /throws confetti. i'm going to be getting my jyj-tvxq albums this monday, lol i've spent hundreds trying to finish up my collection. i feel so happy; and now i've got my eyes on other jyj expensive merch already xD