A Boy and the Sea [5/?]
Title: A Boy and the Sea
Chaptered: Yes. This is Chapter Five.
Rating and Everything Else: G-ish but bordering on PG; Jae-centric; no pairings but everyone will be in it (aye, they'll be kids)
Summary: Red car, blue car. Ten thousand stupid sheep jumping over the stupid fence.
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Five
Jaejoong wakes the next morning with a fog in his head and a name in his mouth. Mommy, he almost calls out loud, like he’s a little kid again after a bad dream, but it melts away like ice on his tongue as early morning cold greets him and the sound of the waves enter his ears. The air in his room is thick with the smell of fish and salt, and he looks and sees his window has been left open. The sheets are damp and when he moves his bones feel creaky, like the salt has managed to wedge itself into his joints.
He sneaks out of the house with no actual plans in mind. He isn’t going for the view since there isn’t any; at 5 AM the land and sea seem to be an endless mixture of blacks and grays, like paint running off a palette. Behind him, the cabins glow yellow and white and brick; in front of theirs (Frank’s, actually) are rosebushes that drip scarlet under the porch lights and that perfume the air with a sweet, almost sickly, scent in a way that’s almost refreshing. Jaejoong ducks into a nice quiet spot by the seawall and almost immediately his head clears as he stares out at the black horizon.
Black, black, everything is black.
He remembers that a few days before his mother died, a large black butterfly had landed on the back of his hand during recess. Timmy Graham had told him that his grandmother believed that black butterflies meant death and that someone in his family was going to die. Jaejoong hadn’t believed it, but he had been scared nonetheless. He had made Timmy take it back, and when he didn’t, had given him a bloody mouth.
Purple stains the far end of the horizon. The stars above him shine like a billion light bulbs.
He finds a stick near the shore and starts writing names on the wet sand: Jaejoong gets washed out by the waves easily, so he moves Yoona and Junsu up by the tide line where the waves can’t reach them. He puts Mom and Dad up at the topmost spot before adding in Yoochun and Yunho beside his brother and sister after a moment’s deliberation. His jacket still smells slightly of butter and he wonders if he made a mistake telling Yoochun, but then what’s done is done, right? No use crying over spilled milk, his English teacher always likes to say.
“Mom,” Jaejoong says, even though he doesn’t know why he says it. He sits on the sand, listens to the sound of the waves as though it were a lullaby. His voice is drowned out by the sounds of wind and water, and Jaejoong has never felt so small yet so empowered at the same time, just sitting in the middle of the beach.
“Mom, can you hear me? It’s me, Mom. It’s Jaejoong.”
He foolishly wishes for a moment that the Jungs’ sea people were real, just to give him something to look at, to see, to direct a conversation to. Instead all he has is the Bay: vast, empty. Useless, like everything else.
“Yoona’s pregnant, Mom. And Dad is mad. I don’t know Dad anymore. I don’t know how to do this…” It feels like something is sitting on his chest and his breath comes out as a shudder (although it could also be very well be a repressed sob):
Can you hear me?
Jaejoong goes back to the cabin just after the sun has risen, feeling lighter, even for just a bit and for a minute he actually feels that everything might just turn out okay, but then he opens the door and smells burnt breakfast, sees Junsu on the floor on his back throwing an early morning tantrum, hears their father yelling, Yoona shouting, doors slamming and chairs screeching, and he feels as though he’s weighted by stones again, sinking fast towards the bottom of the ocean.
The rest of the morning Jaejoong pretends to be asleep, closing his door (but not locking it, for Junsu’s sake) to tell his entire family that he doesn’t want to be disturbed. He hears the phone ring downstairs, then Junsu’s excited footsteps, but then it’s their father’s voice who answers, and Jaejoong shuts his eyes, hugging his extra pillow close to his chest, trying to relax with the help of the sound of the waves.
A knock. “Jae?” It’s their father. “Jaejoong. It’s Yoochun on the phone. He’d like to talk to you.”
Yoochun. Is there anything they need to talk about? Jaejoong doesn’t reply, and his father seems to get the hint. His fading footsteps sound like whispers against the hardwood floor.
The door opens. “Joongie?” Junsu’s voice calls out, his tone careful. “You okay?”
Junsu is harder to ignore, but Jaejoong forces himself to: Red car, blue car. Ten thousand stupid sheep jumping over the stupid fence. “Daddy says not to bug you, but are you sick? Joongie? Are you sleeping? Joo…”
“Su.”
“Daddy, is he sick? How come he’s sleeping huh? Can’t he play? Daddy, I want to play with my brother…”
Jaejoong shuts his eyes, wishing the both of them would go away. Alone. He wants to be alone. His family has always had this nasty habit of doing whatever he doesn’t want them to be doing.
“Jaejoong.” Their father says. Junsu is gone. “I know you’re not asleep, son.”
The statement doesn’t surprise him, but he stiffens all the same. His father, thankfully, keeps his distance. Jaejoong knows he’s staying at the doorway.
“Yoochun wanted to ask if you could spend the night at his and Yunho’s place. I told them you’d be glad to…I know you’re upset, Jae. It’ll be better for you if you get out once in a while. Yoochun and Yunho will do you good, I think. More than what I…”
He stops, and for a terse second Jaejoong actually considers sitting up. Talk, I want to talk, he almost says, please talk to me, but the moment, the urge, quickly passes, and their father says: “Anyway, I told them you’d come. If you don’t want to…well…just tell me. I’ll tell them you’re sick or something.”
His father’s old self wouldn’t have allowed lying to have their way. His father’s old self wouldn’t have allowed a lot of things.
“I’ll see you later, son.” He hears his father say in a way that tells Jaejoong he’s run out of words. A click, and Jaejoong knows he’s been left alone again.
It’s a no-brainer decision, really. Anything than to actually confront his father.
“Hello, Jaejoong!” Mr. Jung booms as an unsurprised welcome. A grandfather clock chimes somewhere, and the sound bounces off the warm yellow-lit walls of the house. He can hear CNN playing in the den. Mrs. Jung is singing from some part of the house. Jaejoong smells fudge cooking and his stomach turns. “Let me take your coat, son…there we go. Yunho and Yoochun are in Yunho’s room. First door at the top of the stairs. Yunho’s mom will be coming up in a bit to give you boys fudge. Nothing like chocolate eh? Go on, go on up!”
Yunho’s door is white and plain, one of many in the airy corridor showcasing picture by picture of the Jungs surrounded by dark frames, and Jaejoong feels more than a slight twinge of discomfort as he places a hand on the doorknob. Why am I here again? He asks himself. Junsu had pouted when he left, obviously upset, and now Jaejoong regrets not bringing Junsu along; he can stand the annoyance if only it could mean not being the center of attention.
He doesn’t need to knock; as though he had read his mind, Yoochun yanks opens Yunho’s door before Jaejoong can even raise his fist. “Hey, you came!” Yoochun says almost too excitedly before Jaejoong is pulled inside in one giant motion. “We thought you weren’t going to show!”
There’s a long train of batteries littering the floor. Yunho is on his knees on the grey carpet. He grins up at Jaejoong. “We need batteries. The flashlight’s run out. I had to sneak ‘em out of Mom’s room. Dump your stuff anywhere, Jae. Yoochun, shut the door, will you?”
It’s one of those instances wherein Jaejoong knows something is definitely up, although very little clues have been given out. “What’s going on?” he asks.
“Yunho’s got a crazy idea. A stupid idea,” Yoochun mutters into his ear, but quickly pulls away when his cousin lifts his head again.
“Last night gave me ideas. You wanna do some exploring, Jae?” Yunho gives him a mischievous grin. “I dared Chunnie to go to Old Man Locksley’s place tonight, but he’s chickened out.”
“I did not. I said I’d go but not tonight…I told you I’d go tomorrow afternoon…”
“I was gonna go alone if you didn’t come, but since you’re here, y’wanna go?” Yunho says, ignoring Yoochun completely. Yoochun nudges his side. Say no, he hears the younger boy whisper, just say no please-
“Where is it? Isn’t it being rented or whatever?” Jaejoong asks. Yunho snaps a flashlight lid back on and tests it by shining a circle of light onto the navy blue walls of his room.
“Naw, no one’s interested in renting it, and he’s got no kids so it’s pretty much abandoned. People believe it’s haunted now.” A gleam is in Yunho’s eye. “Are you game?”
It sounds childish, but the idea excites Jaejoong a bit, although he bites down aren’t we too old for ghost stories before it slips out of his mouth. Yoochun groans when he nods.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever. I’m game,” he says, even though Yoochun is saying beside him, “You both suck balls. If Auntie and Uncle catch you guys you’re both going to be dead. Yunho, you jerk. You big fat jerk” in an endless rant.
“You baby, Yoochun.” Yunho laughs. Triumph is etched on his face. Jaejoong is biting the insides of his mouth. For a moment he feels a little too impulsive and he wants to jam his fist into his mouth, like he used to do as a kid when he knew he’d said too much. But then he remembers that it’s either this or his father and the rest of his family, and as quickly as it came, the feeling vanishes.
“It’ll be fun,” he tells Yoochun, although his voice sounds empty, even to him.
Mrs. Jung doesn’t suspect a thing when she comes into the room later in the evening. She serves them fudge and spreads clean linens and a duvet over the roll-out bed under Yunho’s. She tells him how she’s sorry Yunho’s room is such a mess (“I hear dust godzillas are all the rage now in his school”), why there are two beds (“Yoochun has his own room, actually. He just won’t sleep in it”), and how glad she is that he’s there to spice up things a bit (“Or referee. You can never know with Yunho and Yoochun”). Jaejoong feels the familiar surge of jealousy come when she reaches over to kiss Yunho on the forehead, an unwelcome gesture that Yunho bemoans (“Mooom! Not in front of my friends!”), but Mrs. Jung just laughs. He thinks of his mother and Yoona at the same time. If Yoona’s baby is allowed to live, he thinks, she won’t settle for anything less.
“You boys don’t stay up too late,” she tells them before leaving. “Don’t try to burn down the house while we’re sleeping. Brush your teeth. Yunho, don’t go reading in the dark again. Yoochun, darling, try not to sleep with your iPod on. Jaejoong, are you all right? Okay. Just holler if you need anything all right? We’ll see you boys in the morning. Good night.”
At 11:45, the lights are out, the house is silent, and Yunho opens the window.
Despite everything, Yoochun opts to go along with them. He’s scraped his arm going shimmying down and frowns at Yunho once they’re all safe on the ground. “This is a bad idea,” he mutters as he trails behind. “I’m telling the both of you this is a bad idea.” But Jaejoong finds he doesn’t really care.
The Locksley property is on another end of the beach. Yunho leads them. The moon, shining above their heads like a cut out piece of tin foil, renders the flashlight useless. “C’mon!” Yunho says. Jaejoong steps on sand, stone, wood, shells, sea grass, and then sand again before they can get there. The moonlight is bright enough to grant him the sight of a medium-sized box of a house with a wrap-around porch surrounded by overgrown weeds. Several shingles have fallen from the roof and litter the yard. Some parts of it are boarded up, reminding Jaejoong of Band-Aids. Sad, is the first adjective he thinks of. Wounded is another. He wants to see more but a tall chain-link fence stands on the property line, blocking their path. KEEP OUT, a sign says.
“They’ve fenced it up.” Yoochun says, although he doesn’t sound too disappointed.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Yunho says, more than slightly sarcastic.
“Wow.” Jaejoong’s statement comes out as a whisper. “Cool.”
“Yoochun and I used to come here all the time.” Yunho tells him. He kicks the fence and it responds with the sharp sound of metal clashing against metal. Like teeth being gnashed. “Old Man Locksley would have us run errands for him. He was nice, though he could be a little loopy…wow, it’s creepy here at night. Definitely haunted.”
Yoochun claps his hands. When he speaks, his voice sounds a little too high. “Okay, guess that’s it then. Nowhere-”
And then Jaejoong sees it: a figure, several yards away. A woman. She runs across the property before disappearing into the shadows surrounding the house. His dream suddenly comes back to him, and suddenly he feels as though he’s been doused with ice-cold water.
“LOOK!” he shouts, making Yoochun yelp. “Look!”
“What? Look at what?”
“Did you see something? Jaejoong what-Jaejoong!”
Jaejoong climbs the chain-link fence.
“Stop! Hey, stop!”
He doesn’t know why he’s yelling, or even whom he’s yelling at. A strong, almost bitter sea wind blows at him in big gusts and he nearly topples over as he’s perched on the fence. He lets go and lands on his hands and knees, the sand cushioning his fall like a giant safety net. “Jaejoong!” Yunho is yelling from the other side. The fence clangs and squeaks. “Come back!”
Jaejoong doesn’t.
The house is dark. Pitch black. The windows aren’t shuttered and remind Jaejoong of unseeing eyes. The house looks like a skull. He hesitates about advancing towards the porch. He’s knee-deep in weeds and sea grass, and he hears as the wind passes through the broken eaves and shingles as wails. There’s movement from one of the windows and in a fleeting second, Jaejoong sees sharp eyes, nose, a full mouth, framed by long black hair in what seems to be a trick of the light.
“Hey!” His heart feels as though it’s leapt to his throat. Someone from behind him calls his name, but he doesn’t bother to turn around. He jumps up onto the porch and the wood groans under his weight. “Wait!”
It happens in one swift motion: one minute he’s on the porch, a hand reaching out for the tarnished doorknob, and the next minute he’s on his stomach on the sand, crushing his hand and letting out a loud “Ooof!” in the process. The skin around his throat is sore; someone’s yanked him by the collar.
“What gives?!” he cries out. “Yunho-!”
But it’s not Yunho. Or Yoochun. Changmin sits up from where he’s landed, breathless, sand dusting his face like giant golden freckles. The moon catches in his hair and washes his face pale, like a pebble, under the light. “Don’t do that!” he tells Jaejoong, and Jaejoong gawks at the sight of him.
“You…!” He says in what sounds like a sputter. “Don’t do what? And what’s the big idea? You nearly killed me! And…” There’s no other house in sight and somehow, Changmin’s presence frightens him. “Are you following me? Who are you?”
“Never mind why I’m here! You shouldn’t be here! It’s dangerous!” Changmin says, scolds even. He reaches out to help pull Jaejoong up. “Get up. C’mon. We have to get out of here.”
“No. Are you nuts?” Jaejoong says. “Get away from me!”
“Get up!” Changmin sounds more urgent now. “It’s not safe here.”
“What’s not safe? Are you crazy? You’re the one who keeps popping up out of nowhere-!”
“We have to get you away from here before she starts-”
The wind picks up, and suddenly it’s not wailing anymore. Thunder rumbles in the distance and Jaejoong hears singing. A warm feeling travels from the back of Jaejoong’s neck and down his spine. Something in Changmin seems to shift and Jaejoong feels as his arm is grabbed. “Get UP!” Changmin commands.
“NO!” Jaejoong wriggles against his hold. A strange, calm feeling has overwhelmed him and makes him want to sit and wait until the song is over. He feels like he’s a feather in flight, suspended in air, never to come back down. “Will you get a freaking grip?! Let go of-”
“Jaejoong!” he hears Yoochun shout and then a strange rushing sound. A splash, and suddenly his eyes and the insides of his nose are burning. His arms circle like windmills, his legs pedaling air. Cold seeps into his bones, jolting him awake. He’s floating in darkness and when Jaejoong opens his mouth, the rush of water down his throat takes him by surprise.
The sea is everywhere. There is no bottom, no surface, no sides, and panic is a poison that easily courses through Jaejoong’s blood.
How-? What? Help!
He thrashes, desperate to break through into air. A million different things are running through his mind all at once: What happened. Get me out. Dad. Junsu. Yoona. Mom. Help. I’m going to die. I’m 12 years old and I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die…
A hand slips into his in the darkness, squeezing his fingers. Hold on, a voice in his ear says, and then there’s that strange rushing sensation again and the next thing he knows, Jaejoong has landed face first on the sand, thudding heavily onto the earth, gasping, heaving, coughing, and choking.
This isn’t possible, is the first thing he thinks as the world spins. This isn’t Harry freaking Potter, is the second. This is life. This is real life.
“I had to get you away. I had to.” Changmin is talking a mile a minute. “She was going to lure you in. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re okay, aren’t you? You’re all right. Get up. C’mon, Jaejoong, get up.”
His throat is burning. His ears are pulsing. He feels like his lungs are seizing.
“You were in danger. I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to…you weren’t supposed to know. I shouldn’t have…”
Changmin touches him, no trace of human warmth in his fingers. Droplets of water glisten in his hair, on his skin, but he’s no damper than a flower brushed with rain. Jaejoong backs away in fear, dragging his limbs like lead weights. “Ghost,” he gasps.
“Get away…please…don’t…don’t…”
Jaejoong has the strongest urge to make a cross with his fingers. A bundle of words unfurl at the tip of his tongue: Spirit. Apparition. Magic. Danger…
“I’m not a ghost.”
(Unreal. Irrational. Stupid…)
Changmin looks almost unhappy.
“I’m…sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but you were in danger. I wouldn’t have let you drown. I wouldn’t have, I swear. I’m sorry. Your friends are coming. I told them you were here.”
Jaejoong’s throat is dry, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the salt in his system. For some reason he thinks of Junsu and how (most possibly) his little brother is much, much braver than he is.
“…What are you?” he croaks. It’s not who. Not anymore.
Changmin looks as though he’s about to cry.His knees fold up from under him and he plops down on the ground without so much as a thud. He’s about to open his mouth when a loud, frightened “Jaejoong!” cuts through the night air and in the distance, Jaejoong sees Yunho and Yoochun running towards him, swinging the flashlight this and that way. He catches Changmin’s eyes.
I’ll come back, a voice inside his head says, and Jaejoong doesn’t know how or when but when he looks again Changmin is gone with no trace of him ever being there.
TBC
A/N: I'm sorry it took so long. :/ And...I just noticed I always end up having Changmin disappear. Haha. Don't worry, he'll be explaining himself next chapter. :D Thanks for sticking around.