A Clear Midnight [3/3]
Title: A Clear Midnight
Character: Jaejoong POV, but includes all the rest
Length: 3/3
Rating/Genre: NC-17 for Jaejoong's language; heavy angst
Summary: “...for those of you new to Seoul, welcome. For those of you returning, welcome home.”
A/N: Last of the threeshot! Let me know what you think.
---
Three
I know you probably don’t fucking care, but my mother died when I was eight. She had given me no warning, only a kiss on the last night and a smile before she reached out to turn off the lamp that sat on my bedside table. The next morning I went to school and was called to the principal’s office halfway through fifth period. My father was there and immediately started blubbering the minute I appeared. I nearly suffocated in his arms as he held me close, whispering promises that I would see Mummy in Heaven and that he was sorry, so so sorry he hadn’t been there to protect her from the car that sped towards her. I miss her most whenever I see a sunrise. She had this goddamn radiant smile that would just melt your heart. I love her still with every fiber of my goddamn being. She was my sunrise. I’ve never talked about her until now.
I remembered her because on the plane there was a part where we passed through some part of the world where the sun had bathed everything in pink and orange. I don’t know if it was a sunset or a sunrise but it was just so goddamned beautiful I nearly wept. I mean, there I was, suspended in the air between God knows what time zones and it was like someone had made a beautiful painting up there for everyone to see. Yoochun would call me a sap if he’d heard me but I know Yunho would agree. He’s the kind of guy who appreciates stuff like that.
Anyway when you’re on a plane you get plenty of time to either think or sleep. Most of the flight I was conked out like a drunk. I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t want to remember or if I just wanted time to fly by faster. When I woke up it was dark and we were about three hours away from Seoul. I thought of my father then, for some reason. I hadn’t seen him since August, since everything went fucking wrong. I knew he was going to kill me when he saw me and I wondered if what I felt deep inside of me was really fear or guilt, rather than anger. Don’t get me wrong. My father really isn’t the bastard I often make him out to be. He’s a good guy, really. He’s just really damned unlucky he got straddled with a kid like me. I’m just a goddamned bomb waiting to explode.
He hadn’t been the one to tell me about Yunho. I hadn’t given him the chance. It had been Changmin who had chased me down the hallway and had tackled me to pin me on the ground. I was yelling my goddamn lungs out to drown out everything Changmin was telling me and my father had come up and gathered us both in his arms as if we were eight and six again, holding us close so that Changmin’s face was squished against my neck and wet it with tears.
“Jae, I’m so sorry,” was all my father had said. I had pushed him away.
I remember running to Yunho’s house. By the time I got there I was so winded out I was sure I was going to die. His car was right outside where it was supposed to be, but something seemed off somehow. I had shimmied up his mother’s rose trellis in order to get to his bedroom window, only to find it locked for the first time. Then the calls started coming. First my father, then Junsu, Changmin, and Yoochun. I fucking pulled the battery out of the goddamned phone just so they would stop. It took me a fucking month before I could fully listen to what really happened. By that time, Junsu had already packed up and left without a word, his parents telling mine that they “wanted a better environment” for him, which really meant “We just want to get our son away from your own fucked-up one.”
“We were only playing soccer,” Yoochun had rivers of tears streaming down his face when he told me. I was still bedridden by then, with my stomach completely fucked. “He was fine…I swear to God, he was fucking fine…we thought it was a goddamn joke…we thought he was fucking fooling around…” Yoochun’s head had hung low, and he’d gripped my sheets until his knuckles turned white. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry…”
When I think about it sometimes, I get so mad I hit something. I just take my baseball bat and go outside and just hit a tree or something because it’s just so fucking unfair. Yunho was only fucking eighteen. He was supposed to be goddamned immortal. Up until now it was still like a goddamned joke. He suddenly just fell and didn’t get up. They told me his heart had just fucking stopped like it was some goddamned conspiracy. There wasn’t any pain, they said, that he probably didn’t even feel a thing. There hadn’t even been the slightest inkling of a goodbye. I hate him for it sometimes. I hate him for leaving without telling me.
“One day we’re gonna make a name for ourselves,” Yunho told me once. “One day we’re gonna be big. You, me, Chun, Su and your baby brother. Trust me.” He was always a dreamer, Yunho. My job was usually making sure his feet were planted on the ground.
“I’m a fuck up, remember? People like me don’t go far. People like me…we just live for a while then fade away.” I’d told him. We had been smoking on the roof of his house, the thin wafts of cigarette smoke making wispy curlicues above our heads. He’d given me a disapproving look before crushing the remains of his cigarette into the glass ashtray that sat between our knees.
“You’re so goddamn hard to talk to sometimes,” he’d said, shaking his head. “I swear I’d probably be better off talking to a brick wall.” I’d laughed because it was true and Yunho had joined me. “You always make things so damned difficult for yourself, you know that? I’m going to get an ulcer just having these conversations with you.”
We’d talked a bit more and Yunho never mentioned any of it again. That night, the stars had come out and we fell asleep under them.
“...for those of you new to Seoul, welcome. For those of you returning, welcome home.”
I got a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach when I heard that line. I mean, it’s so fucking corny and cheesy when you think of it, but it still gave me goosebumps somewhat.
I was still wearing my school uniform and that lump of a jacket the cab driver had given me back in New York as I walked around the airport. I probably looked like a fucking retard. It was nearly dawn outside and the sky looked like it was still deciding whether or not it would already change colors; part of it was still an inky purple while another part already had tinges of peach. I was walking so slowly down the terminal that hundreds of people had overtaken me before I even reached the exit. I was home, but I was still unsure as to why I was there in the first place.
I remembered Junsu and what he’d told us once. It had been the day his smile had faded, leaving only a sad, faint line of laughter on his face.
“My parents fight. All the time. They told me…it won’t be long before they’ll separate. They want me and JunHo to choose which of them we want to live with.”
Yunho had automatically slung an arm over his shoulders and Yoochun had quit his teasing. We had been in McDonald’s and I had sent Changmin to get us shakes. He’d returned to find Junsu near tears.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go. I fucking hate my home. I fucking hate my life.”
I don’t mean to be a bastard (not this time anyway), but it was actually a relief to hear someone else rant for once. To realize I’m not the only one the world turns against. Yoochun had pulled Junsu closer to him by getting a hold of his neck with his arm and, for some reason, we huddled closer as he did, as though Yoochun were about to tell us some sort of secret to happiness we knew we desperately wanted.
“Home isn’t a place, SuSu,” he’d said softly, before ruffling Junsu’s hair and planting a light kiss on his temple. He didn’t say anything after that because we’re cryptic fuckers like that. For some insane reason, though, we all understood what he meant.
I had the cab driver drive down my street. When it passed by Yunho’s house, I didn’t tell him to stop. His bedroom window was the one on the leftmost side on the second floor. His family keeps it locked now, Changmin told me. His Porsche is long gone. I don’t know what they’ve done with it but I’ve heard Yunho’s father had wanted to give it to me for some fucking reason. I would never accept that car if he’d offered, even though it’s a goddamned Porsche. Never.
I got off at the hillside we used to frequent after I dropped off my luggage on the front steps of my house. I’m a crazy bastard like that. When my father opens the door he’d probably get a coronary once he realizes just what the fuck my stuff is doing there. I hoped Changmin would get the gist right away.
“Yeoboseyo?”
Yoochun sounded groggy. Naturally. It was only 6 in the fucking morning. I didn’t answer right away, hoping like an idiot that he’d recognize me through some sort of telepathy or instinct or something.
“Yeoboseyo?” He sounded more alert now. I breathed into the phone. I was sitting on the frozen grass, the salami-smelling coat still around my shoulders to keep me warm. In the horizon fingers of gold and pink were starting to stretch out up against the city skyline. I wasn’t surprised when I felt tears running down my cheeks.
“Yoochun,” was the only thing I said. My breath hitched. I could sense as Yoochun’s brain sprang into action, as he hurriedly pieced together in his mind possible scenarios. He was always a dramatist like that, a writer.
“Jaejae,” he said finally. He didn’t scream it or cry out in surprise. It was as though he expected me. And then I realized that he too was crying, his voice shaking as he repeated my name a second time as though he was trying to get used to it again. A thousand different emotions ran in his voice. “Jaejoong.” He didn’t say it out loud, but I could hear it in my head. How dare you fucking leave? Fuck you. I’ve missed you. Bastard.
And all of a sudden their faces and laughter rushed back at me: Yoochun, Junsu, Changmin, Yunho. By myself on that frozen patch of land, I could hear Junsu’s squeal of delight, feel Changmin’s playful punches landing on my shoulder, smell the acrid scent of Yoochun’s favorite brand of cigarettes, and see Yunho’s bright genuine smile. Suddenly I was so so tired. Of running. Of fighting. Of anger. Of fear. I pulled the coat closer to me, gripped the phone tighter and I fucking wept like a child. This time I knew why.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m home. I’m home. I’m home. Please don’t let me fade away.”
END.
A/N: Okay, just to clear some points if you got confused:
Yunho is dead.
Junsu and his family moved away after Yunho died. They didn’t want Jae to corrupt Junsu any further with his rotten view of life. None of them knows where he is.
Jae was sent away by his father to boarding school to help him forget. As you probably have picked up, it’s just made him more bitter.
At the end, Jae finally grows up. He stops running and finally comes to terms with the fact that Yunho’s dead and Junsu’s gone and that they will never be the same again. Poor kid feels the world’s against him ever since he was stripped of his innocence at his mother’s death, which is why he wanted to hold on so badly to his memories of Yunho and the others because it was the only thing that kept him sane and stable.
Home isn’t a place for Jae but the sense of belonging he has with the other guys. When he remembers them at the same time he acknowledges the truth about their situation, he knows he’s where he’s supposed to be.
By also saying “Please don’t let me fade away”, he’s admitting finally that he needs help and is now more willing to cooperate.
I don’t know what he plans to do next but hopefully he’ll be a bit more optimistic. You never know with Jae though.
Anyway, thanks for reading! Hope I didn’t confuse you too much. ^^
Character: Jaejoong POV, but includes all the rest
Length: 3/3
Rating/Genre: NC-17 for Jaejoong's language; heavy angst
Summary: “...for those of you new to Seoul, welcome. For those of you returning, welcome home.”
A/N: Last of the threeshot! Let me know what you think.
---
Three
I know you probably don’t fucking care, but my mother died when I was eight. She had given me no warning, only a kiss on the last night and a smile before she reached out to turn off the lamp that sat on my bedside table. The next morning I went to school and was called to the principal’s office halfway through fifth period. My father was there and immediately started blubbering the minute I appeared. I nearly suffocated in his arms as he held me close, whispering promises that I would see Mummy in Heaven and that he was sorry, so so sorry he hadn’t been there to protect her from the car that sped towards her. I miss her most whenever I see a sunrise. She had this goddamn radiant smile that would just melt your heart. I love her still with every fiber of my goddamn being. She was my sunrise. I’ve never talked about her until now.
I remembered her because on the plane there was a part where we passed through some part of the world where the sun had bathed everything in pink and orange. I don’t know if it was a sunset or a sunrise but it was just so goddamned beautiful I nearly wept. I mean, there I was, suspended in the air between God knows what time zones and it was like someone had made a beautiful painting up there for everyone to see. Yoochun would call me a sap if he’d heard me but I know Yunho would agree. He’s the kind of guy who appreciates stuff like that.
Anyway when you’re on a plane you get plenty of time to either think or sleep. Most of the flight I was conked out like a drunk. I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t want to remember or if I just wanted time to fly by faster. When I woke up it was dark and we were about three hours away from Seoul. I thought of my father then, for some reason. I hadn’t seen him since August, since everything went fucking wrong. I knew he was going to kill me when he saw me and I wondered if what I felt deep inside of me was really fear or guilt, rather than anger. Don’t get me wrong. My father really isn’t the bastard I often make him out to be. He’s a good guy, really. He’s just really damned unlucky he got straddled with a kid like me. I’m just a goddamned bomb waiting to explode.
He hadn’t been the one to tell me about Yunho. I hadn’t given him the chance. It had been Changmin who had chased me down the hallway and had tackled me to pin me on the ground. I was yelling my goddamn lungs out to drown out everything Changmin was telling me and my father had come up and gathered us both in his arms as if we were eight and six again, holding us close so that Changmin’s face was squished against my neck and wet it with tears.
“Jae, I’m so sorry,” was all my father had said. I had pushed him away.
I remember running to Yunho’s house. By the time I got there I was so winded out I was sure I was going to die. His car was right outside where it was supposed to be, but something seemed off somehow. I had shimmied up his mother’s rose trellis in order to get to his bedroom window, only to find it locked for the first time. Then the calls started coming. First my father, then Junsu, Changmin, and Yoochun. I fucking pulled the battery out of the goddamned phone just so they would stop. It took me a fucking month before I could fully listen to what really happened. By that time, Junsu had already packed up and left without a word, his parents telling mine that they “wanted a better environment” for him, which really meant “We just want to get our son away from your own fucked-up one.”
“We were only playing soccer,” Yoochun had rivers of tears streaming down his face when he told me. I was still bedridden by then, with my stomach completely fucked. “He was fine…I swear to God, he was fucking fine…we thought it was a goddamn joke…we thought he was fucking fooling around…” Yoochun’s head had hung low, and he’d gripped my sheets until his knuckles turned white. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry…”
When I think about it sometimes, I get so mad I hit something. I just take my baseball bat and go outside and just hit a tree or something because it’s just so fucking unfair. Yunho was only fucking eighteen. He was supposed to be goddamned immortal. Up until now it was still like a goddamned joke. He suddenly just fell and didn’t get up. They told me his heart had just fucking stopped like it was some goddamned conspiracy. There wasn’t any pain, they said, that he probably didn’t even feel a thing. There hadn’t even been the slightest inkling of a goodbye. I hate him for it sometimes. I hate him for leaving without telling me.
“One day we’re gonna make a name for ourselves,” Yunho told me once. “One day we’re gonna be big. You, me, Chun, Su and your baby brother. Trust me.” He was always a dreamer, Yunho. My job was usually making sure his feet were planted on the ground.
“I’m a fuck up, remember? People like me don’t go far. People like me…we just live for a while then fade away.” I’d told him. We had been smoking on the roof of his house, the thin wafts of cigarette smoke making wispy curlicues above our heads. He’d given me a disapproving look before crushing the remains of his cigarette into the glass ashtray that sat between our knees.
“You’re so goddamn hard to talk to sometimes,” he’d said, shaking his head. “I swear I’d probably be better off talking to a brick wall.” I’d laughed because it was true and Yunho had joined me. “You always make things so damned difficult for yourself, you know that? I’m going to get an ulcer just having these conversations with you.”
We’d talked a bit more and Yunho never mentioned any of it again. That night, the stars had come out and we fell asleep under them.
“...for those of you new to Seoul, welcome. For those of you returning, welcome home.”
I got a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach when I heard that line. I mean, it’s so fucking corny and cheesy when you think of it, but it still gave me goosebumps somewhat.
I was still wearing my school uniform and that lump of a jacket the cab driver had given me back in New York as I walked around the airport. I probably looked like a fucking retard. It was nearly dawn outside and the sky looked like it was still deciding whether or not it would already change colors; part of it was still an inky purple while another part already had tinges of peach. I was walking so slowly down the terminal that hundreds of people had overtaken me before I even reached the exit. I was home, but I was still unsure as to why I was there in the first place.
I remembered Junsu and what he’d told us once. It had been the day his smile had faded, leaving only a sad, faint line of laughter on his face.
“My parents fight. All the time. They told me…it won’t be long before they’ll separate. They want me and JunHo to choose which of them we want to live with.”
Yunho had automatically slung an arm over his shoulders and Yoochun had quit his teasing. We had been in McDonald’s and I had sent Changmin to get us shakes. He’d returned to find Junsu near tears.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go. I fucking hate my home. I fucking hate my life.”
I don’t mean to be a bastard (not this time anyway), but it was actually a relief to hear someone else rant for once. To realize I’m not the only one the world turns against. Yoochun had pulled Junsu closer to him by getting a hold of his neck with his arm and, for some reason, we huddled closer as he did, as though Yoochun were about to tell us some sort of secret to happiness we knew we desperately wanted.
“Home isn’t a place, SuSu,” he’d said softly, before ruffling Junsu’s hair and planting a light kiss on his temple. He didn’t say anything after that because we’re cryptic fuckers like that. For some insane reason, though, we all understood what he meant.
I had the cab driver drive down my street. When it passed by Yunho’s house, I didn’t tell him to stop. His bedroom window was the one on the leftmost side on the second floor. His family keeps it locked now, Changmin told me. His Porsche is long gone. I don’t know what they’ve done with it but I’ve heard Yunho’s father had wanted to give it to me for some fucking reason. I would never accept that car if he’d offered, even though it’s a goddamned Porsche. Never.
I got off at the hillside we used to frequent after I dropped off my luggage on the front steps of my house. I’m a crazy bastard like that. When my father opens the door he’d probably get a coronary once he realizes just what the fuck my stuff is doing there. I hoped Changmin would get the gist right away.
“Yeoboseyo?”
Yoochun sounded groggy. Naturally. It was only 6 in the fucking morning. I didn’t answer right away, hoping like an idiot that he’d recognize me through some sort of telepathy or instinct or something.
“Yeoboseyo?” He sounded more alert now. I breathed into the phone. I was sitting on the frozen grass, the salami-smelling coat still around my shoulders to keep me warm. In the horizon fingers of gold and pink were starting to stretch out up against the city skyline. I wasn’t surprised when I felt tears running down my cheeks.
“Yoochun,” was the only thing I said. My breath hitched. I could sense as Yoochun’s brain sprang into action, as he hurriedly pieced together in his mind possible scenarios. He was always a dramatist like that, a writer.
“Jaejae,” he said finally. He didn’t scream it or cry out in surprise. It was as though he expected me. And then I realized that he too was crying, his voice shaking as he repeated my name a second time as though he was trying to get used to it again. A thousand different emotions ran in his voice. “Jaejoong.” He didn’t say it out loud, but I could hear it in my head. How dare you fucking leave? Fuck you. I’ve missed you. Bastard.
And all of a sudden their faces and laughter rushed back at me: Yoochun, Junsu, Changmin, Yunho. By myself on that frozen patch of land, I could hear Junsu’s squeal of delight, feel Changmin’s playful punches landing on my shoulder, smell the acrid scent of Yoochun’s favorite brand of cigarettes, and see Yunho’s bright genuine smile. Suddenly I was so so tired. Of running. Of fighting. Of anger. Of fear. I pulled the coat closer to me, gripped the phone tighter and I fucking wept like a child. This time I knew why.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m home. I’m home. I’m home. Please don’t let me fade away.”
END.
A/N: Okay, just to clear some points if you got confused:
Yunho is dead.
Junsu and his family moved away after Yunho died. They didn’t want Jae to corrupt Junsu any further with his rotten view of life. None of them knows where he is.
Jae was sent away by his father to boarding school to help him forget. As you probably have picked up, it’s just made him more bitter.
At the end, Jae finally grows up. He stops running and finally comes to terms with the fact that Yunho’s dead and Junsu’s gone and that they will never be the same again. Poor kid feels the world’s against him ever since he was stripped of his innocence at his mother’s death, which is why he wanted to hold on so badly to his memories of Yunho and the others because it was the only thing that kept him sane and stable.
Home isn’t a place for Jae but the sense of belonging he has with the other guys. When he remembers them at the same time he acknowledges the truth about their situation, he knows he’s where he’s supposed to be.
By also saying “Please don’t let me fade away”, he’s admitting finally that he needs help and is now more willing to cooperate.
I don’t know what he plans to do next but hopefully he’ll be a bit more optimistic. You never know with Jae though.
Anyway, thanks for reading! Hope I didn’t confuse you too much. ^^