Help, I'm Alive [Jaemin]
Title: Help, I'm Alive
Chapter: 1
Paring: Changmin/Jaejoong
Rating: PG, for now. ( I can almost guarantee it won't be in later chapters. ;D )
Summary: Changmin can't keep his eyes off of Jaejoong these days.
Music: "Help, I'm Alive by Metric
I tremble;
They're gonna eat me alive.
If I stumble,
They're gonna eat me alive.
Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer, beating like a hammer...
- - -
"Jae-hyung, your kimchi is delicious, as always!"
A chorus of agreement echoed around the table, save for one voice; Changmin jumped, just barely, as the rest spoke so abruptly in answer to Junsu, who was giving Min an odd look across the table. The youngest shrugged it off, a belated smile on his lips, a curt nod in Jaejoong's direction, though he was greatly bothered by the fact that Junsu was still giving him that look, that half-smile, his expression as though he couldn't quite figure Min out, but was on the verge of discovering something. The cook, though, did not seem to be satisfied with this, and did his best to draw forth the missing voice (oh, it was Jaejoong's weakness, it seemed; he could not be content without every opinion, and while some might have thought it conceited, Changmin knew it to be one of his hyung's most endearing qualities, his need for reassurance)-
"And you, Changmin?" Jaejoong's voice was light, inquisitive; he caught the taller boy's eyes for a moment before casting his eyes down at his food, and Min grasped for the right words. His hand was trembling just slightly, his chopsticks making the lightest little clickclickclick against the smooth enamel of his bowl.
"It's good, hyung, though it's not as spicy as usual." He had answered honestly, a practice he tried to uphold with his housemates, his friends; still, he felt a sudden pang of regret, heard Micky make a noncomittal little noise next to him, and watched Jae's face carefully for his reaction. After a moment, the other looked up, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair from his face with one slender hand, and Min was glad to see the smile gracing his hyung's lips.
"Thank you for your honesty, dong-saeng." Min wasn't sure how such a little word could do so much- please him with its affectionate tone, and tear him apart with the very same. He lowered his eyes, gave Jae a little nod, and after a beat looked back, and thankfully the older boy had focused his attentions on his food again, and Min was able to steal a glance, catching the cut-glass edge of Jae's jawline and committing it to memory. The blonde boy made a little joke about his lack of success in hunting down enough peppers for that night's meal to prepare it to his usual tongue-scorching level, and there was a murmur of laughter around Min, but he had not heard the words; he was lost in the shadows of his hyung's face.
His eyes lingered on Jaejoong a moment longer, and he glanced at Junsu again, who had a faint sheen of recognition in his eyes that stole the wonder from the youngest's eyes and tucked it away somewhere that his friend could not see it, keeping his expression as indifferent as possible as he placed his eyes firmly on his food. He could feel Junsu's eyes on him for some time after that as he idly stirred his kimchi, watching the soft tendrils of a shredded leek following his motion, spinning endlessly.
Min wasn't quite sure when it had started, but lately he caught himself watching Jaejoong, more than usual. True, the oldest of their group did have a certain charm about him, a commanding presence; but Min realized, as the days wore by, that he could not take his eyes off of his Jaejoong-hyung. Perhaps it was a new aspect of their lovely cameraderie these days, a new dynamic he was not aware of having in his possession. Then again, if this was just another privilege of being close to Jaejoong, why did he feel as though he were coveting his hyung with every stolen look, feeling faintly guilty, as if he were stealing bites of the forbidden fruit? He had never been so close to anyone as he was to the four boys gathered around the table with him, and as another wonderful year with his fellow members went by, their bonds grew stronger. Still, it unnerved him every time he realized that he was watching Jaejoong again, snapping out of his reverie as if falling out of a dream to find Micky shaking him to get his attention, or Yunho calling his name from another room in a tone that suggested he had been calling for some time, or hearing the familiar bray of Junsu's laugh and not knowing what was so funny.
As the rest finished their food one by one and left the table, Min ate more slowly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Micky strode leisurely down the hallway, Junsu catching up and brushing the other's wrist, murmuring something unintelligible; Min watched as Junsu oh-so-casually slipped his hand into Yoochun's, and the baritone's lips quirked into a smile as they disappeared around the corner. He looked up, saw that Yunho's gaze was turned in the same direction. The older boy watched their friends leave together, turned; as he met Min's gaze, he gave him a conspiratorial wink, and stood, gently setting his dish on the counter and drifting in the direction of his room, slippers making a soft slap against the floor with each step. Changmin watched as his leadersshi disappeared down another hallway, and tensed up. He was alone with Jaejoong, who, mercifully, was flipping through a magazine that Yunho had abandoned at the other end of the table as he finished his food. The lanky boy felt a pang of relief as Jaejoong stood, finally, and gathered his things, heading for the kitchen to clean up.
Min watched him go, found himself admiring the way he walked, his gait lending a slight bounce to his hair, the blonde strands touching down softly against his skin, and Changmin wanted desperately then to reach out and touch it. It was then that he realized he was staring again, and flushed, grateful to have no one's attention on him as he fumbled with his utensils. They made a sharp clatter against the tabletop. He winced, looked in Jaejoong's direction, but the older boy hadn't noticed.
Min stood, mustering as much grace as he possibly could, and took his dish to the kitchen. There- soft blonde against the dark sweater he was wearing, moving out of Min's vision as Jae disappeared into the pantry, replacing the ingredients he'd used for dinner. Changmin didn't know quite what to do with himself, and, flustered, set his dish on the smooth countertop next to the others and hurried out, doing his best not to crash into anything. As he left, Jaejoong emerged from the pantry, sure he had heard something, but found himself alone, and so set to cleaning.
Down the hallway, a tall silhouette shuffled quietly past the bedrooms, quirking an eyebrow knowingly as he caught sight of Yoochun's hat that he had been wearing all evening perched on the doorknob to his room, and felt a swell of happiness for his friends as he slipped into the bathroom, the flourescent light overhead harsh compared to the soft lighting through the rest of the house that evening. Min turned on the tap, sliding a hand under the steady stream, watching the cool water fall through his slender fingers in a graceful arc, before leaning down, gently splashing his face.
He felt his cheeks cooling rapidly, and as if fooled, his nerves started to calm again as he reached for one of the towels hanging from a shiny metal hook on the wall near their ornate mirror, burying his face in it and breathing deeply. It smelled clean, almost sweet; It must have been Jae-hyung's turn to buy linen soap, he thought, which did little to help his nerves from flaring again just at the thought of his name. They each took turns buying food and supplies, and taking care of various duties around the house; if there wasn't a clear order, Min could still tell who had been in charge of what that week, simply by noticing little things, like the particular scent of soap that Jae favored, or the way Junsu only dusted in front of the books on the bookshelf (so that when one lifted a book from its place, there was a clear line where the dust began again beneath the books and extended to the back of the shelf), or the vast array of things (a stray soccer ball, several pairs of haphazardly stacked boots) that tumbled out of the front closet when the door was opened as Yunho looked sheepishly on. Yoochun was strangely particular and tidy, much like Jaejoong.
Changmin replaced the towel on its hook and turned to leave, but stopped when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was getting long; it was down to his shoulders, just barely, and now it curled slightly at his jaw, the light above him illuminating the light halo of frizz around his head. He reached up and smoothed it lightly with his hand, but it did little to help. At least it was just another evening at home. Min let his eyes tumble down through his features, briefly; his eyes, dark and solemn, the hard line of his nose, his lips, somewhat full for the normal boy's mouth, chapped. He absentmindedly ran the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, the sensation of sudden moisture stinging just slightly, and turned off the light, retreating into the hallway. He wondered what Jaejoong saw when he looked at him, if he looked at all.
With some reluctance, he made his way to the small room he shared with Junsu (who was closest to him in age, though Junsu often stayed the night in Yoochun's room if he could get away with it; the hyungs had their own small rooms to themselves on the other side of the common area), groping for the light. As their somewhat messy space was illuminated, he cast his eyes toward his bed with some longing. It was small and slender, and he sometimes had to curl his legs to be comfortable, what with his height, but it was nice. His blankets were haphazardly smoothed into place, crooked here and there, but it had some semblance of being made, and so he had left it that way. Something about pulling back a blanket and falling into a bed that had been made well all day felt better than into one that had been left a mess from the night before. It was like a clean erasure of the dreams that had tossed the sheets about around his limbs, sheets cool and smooth.
He finally managed to tear his thoughts away from his bed- he'd even felt his eyelids start to droop, the idea of sleep so enticing -and gathered his Japanese studies book and a notebook from where he had perched them precariously at the edge of the crowded little table between his bed and Junsu's, nearly knocking over a half-empty bottle of water in the process. His little, battered mp3 player caught his eye, and he took it as well, slipping it into his pocket, the long cord of the earphones slithering down after it. Min cast one last look at his bed, and regrettably turned off the light, quietly making his way down the hallway again, pretending he didn't hear a soft chuckle from Yoochun's room, an intake of breath that made Min's heart ache in a peculiar way.
He headed for the table, silently resolving to drag himself through at least one chapter tonight before bed.
- - -
Chapter: 1
Paring: Changmin/Jaejoong
Rating: PG, for now. ( I can almost guarantee it won't be in later chapters. ;D )
Summary: Changmin can't keep his eyes off of Jaejoong these days.
Music: "Help, I'm Alive by Metric
I tremble;
They're gonna eat me alive.
If I stumble,
They're gonna eat me alive.
Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer, beating like a hammer...
- - -
"Jae-hyung, your kimchi is delicious, as always!"
A chorus of agreement echoed around the table, save for one voice; Changmin jumped, just barely, as the rest spoke so abruptly in answer to Junsu, who was giving Min an odd look across the table. The youngest shrugged it off, a belated smile on his lips, a curt nod in Jaejoong's direction, though he was greatly bothered by the fact that Junsu was still giving him that look, that half-smile, his expression as though he couldn't quite figure Min out, but was on the verge of discovering something. The cook, though, did not seem to be satisfied with this, and did his best to draw forth the missing voice (oh, it was Jaejoong's weakness, it seemed; he could not be content without every opinion, and while some might have thought it conceited, Changmin knew it to be one of his hyung's most endearing qualities, his need for reassurance)-
"And you, Changmin?" Jaejoong's voice was light, inquisitive; he caught the taller boy's eyes for a moment before casting his eyes down at his food, and Min grasped for the right words. His hand was trembling just slightly, his chopsticks making the lightest little clickclickclick against the smooth enamel of his bowl.
"It's good, hyung, though it's not as spicy as usual." He had answered honestly, a practice he tried to uphold with his housemates, his friends; still, he felt a sudden pang of regret, heard Micky make a noncomittal little noise next to him, and watched Jae's face carefully for his reaction. After a moment, the other looked up, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair from his face with one slender hand, and Min was glad to see the smile gracing his hyung's lips.
"Thank you for your honesty, dong-saeng." Min wasn't sure how such a little word could do so much- please him with its affectionate tone, and tear him apart with the very same. He lowered his eyes, gave Jae a little nod, and after a beat looked back, and thankfully the older boy had focused his attentions on his food again, and Min was able to steal a glance, catching the cut-glass edge of Jae's jawline and committing it to memory. The blonde boy made a little joke about his lack of success in hunting down enough peppers for that night's meal to prepare it to his usual tongue-scorching level, and there was a murmur of laughter around Min, but he had not heard the words; he was lost in the shadows of his hyung's face.
His eyes lingered on Jaejoong a moment longer, and he glanced at Junsu again, who had a faint sheen of recognition in his eyes that stole the wonder from the youngest's eyes and tucked it away somewhere that his friend could not see it, keeping his expression as indifferent as possible as he placed his eyes firmly on his food. He could feel Junsu's eyes on him for some time after that as he idly stirred his kimchi, watching the soft tendrils of a shredded leek following his motion, spinning endlessly.
Min wasn't quite sure when it had started, but lately he caught himself watching Jaejoong, more than usual. True, the oldest of their group did have a certain charm about him, a commanding presence; but Min realized, as the days wore by, that he could not take his eyes off of his Jaejoong-hyung. Perhaps it was a new aspect of their lovely cameraderie these days, a new dynamic he was not aware of having in his possession. Then again, if this was just another privilege of being close to Jaejoong, why did he feel as though he were coveting his hyung with every stolen look, feeling faintly guilty, as if he were stealing bites of the forbidden fruit? He had never been so close to anyone as he was to the four boys gathered around the table with him, and as another wonderful year with his fellow members went by, their bonds grew stronger. Still, it unnerved him every time he realized that he was watching Jaejoong again, snapping out of his reverie as if falling out of a dream to find Micky shaking him to get his attention, or Yunho calling his name from another room in a tone that suggested he had been calling for some time, or hearing the familiar bray of Junsu's laugh and not knowing what was so funny.
As the rest finished their food one by one and left the table, Min ate more slowly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Micky strode leisurely down the hallway, Junsu catching up and brushing the other's wrist, murmuring something unintelligible; Min watched as Junsu oh-so-casually slipped his hand into Yoochun's, and the baritone's lips quirked into a smile as they disappeared around the corner. He looked up, saw that Yunho's gaze was turned in the same direction. The older boy watched their friends leave together, turned; as he met Min's gaze, he gave him a conspiratorial wink, and stood, gently setting his dish on the counter and drifting in the direction of his room, slippers making a soft slap against the floor with each step. Changmin watched as his leadersshi disappeared down another hallway, and tensed up. He was alone with Jaejoong, who, mercifully, was flipping through a magazine that Yunho had abandoned at the other end of the table as he finished his food. The lanky boy felt a pang of relief as Jaejoong stood, finally, and gathered his things, heading for the kitchen to clean up.
Min watched him go, found himself admiring the way he walked, his gait lending a slight bounce to his hair, the blonde strands touching down softly against his skin, and Changmin wanted desperately then to reach out and touch it. It was then that he realized he was staring again, and flushed, grateful to have no one's attention on him as he fumbled with his utensils. They made a sharp clatter against the tabletop. He winced, looked in Jaejoong's direction, but the older boy hadn't noticed.
Min stood, mustering as much grace as he possibly could, and took his dish to the kitchen. There- soft blonde against the dark sweater he was wearing, moving out of Min's vision as Jae disappeared into the pantry, replacing the ingredients he'd used for dinner. Changmin didn't know quite what to do with himself, and, flustered, set his dish on the smooth countertop next to the others and hurried out, doing his best not to crash into anything. As he left, Jaejoong emerged from the pantry, sure he had heard something, but found himself alone, and so set to cleaning.
Down the hallway, a tall silhouette shuffled quietly past the bedrooms, quirking an eyebrow knowingly as he caught sight of Yoochun's hat that he had been wearing all evening perched on the doorknob to his room, and felt a swell of happiness for his friends as he slipped into the bathroom, the flourescent light overhead harsh compared to the soft lighting through the rest of the house that evening. Min turned on the tap, sliding a hand under the steady stream, watching the cool water fall through his slender fingers in a graceful arc, before leaning down, gently splashing his face.
He felt his cheeks cooling rapidly, and as if fooled, his nerves started to calm again as he reached for one of the towels hanging from a shiny metal hook on the wall near their ornate mirror, burying his face in it and breathing deeply. It smelled clean, almost sweet; It must have been Jae-hyung's turn to buy linen soap, he thought, which did little to help his nerves from flaring again just at the thought of his name. They each took turns buying food and supplies, and taking care of various duties around the house; if there wasn't a clear order, Min could still tell who had been in charge of what that week, simply by noticing little things, like the particular scent of soap that Jae favored, or the way Junsu only dusted in front of the books on the bookshelf (so that when one lifted a book from its place, there was a clear line where the dust began again beneath the books and extended to the back of the shelf), or the vast array of things (a stray soccer ball, several pairs of haphazardly stacked boots) that tumbled out of the front closet when the door was opened as Yunho looked sheepishly on. Yoochun was strangely particular and tidy, much like Jaejoong.
Changmin replaced the towel on its hook and turned to leave, but stopped when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was getting long; it was down to his shoulders, just barely, and now it curled slightly at his jaw, the light above him illuminating the light halo of frizz around his head. He reached up and smoothed it lightly with his hand, but it did little to help. At least it was just another evening at home. Min let his eyes tumble down through his features, briefly; his eyes, dark and solemn, the hard line of his nose, his lips, somewhat full for the normal boy's mouth, chapped. He absentmindedly ran the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, the sensation of sudden moisture stinging just slightly, and turned off the light, retreating into the hallway. He wondered what Jaejoong saw when he looked at him, if he looked at all.
With some reluctance, he made his way to the small room he shared with Junsu (who was closest to him in age, though Junsu often stayed the night in Yoochun's room if he could get away with it; the hyungs had their own small rooms to themselves on the other side of the common area), groping for the light. As their somewhat messy space was illuminated, he cast his eyes toward his bed with some longing. It was small and slender, and he sometimes had to curl his legs to be comfortable, what with his height, but it was nice. His blankets were haphazardly smoothed into place, crooked here and there, but it had some semblance of being made, and so he had left it that way. Something about pulling back a blanket and falling into a bed that had been made well all day felt better than into one that had been left a mess from the night before. It was like a clean erasure of the dreams that had tossed the sheets about around his limbs, sheets cool and smooth.
He finally managed to tear his thoughts away from his bed- he'd even felt his eyelids start to droop, the idea of sleep so enticing -and gathered his Japanese studies book and a notebook from where he had perched them precariously at the edge of the crowded little table between his bed and Junsu's, nearly knocking over a half-empty bottle of water in the process. His little, battered mp3 player caught his eye, and he took it as well, slipping it into his pocket, the long cord of the earphones slithering down after it. Min cast one last look at his bed, and regrettably turned off the light, quietly making his way down the hallway again, pretending he didn't hear a soft chuckle from Yoochun's room, an intake of breath that made Min's heart ache in a peculiar way.
He headed for the table, silently resolving to drag himself through at least one chapter tonight before bed.
- - -