Scattered Vertebrae (II)
Title: Scattered Vertebrae
Author: countingcr0ws
Pairing/ Characters: Yunjae
Rating: PG
Form: One-shot, Sequel ( 1 | 2 )
Genre: AU, Generally Happy, Lucid, Slice of Life
Summary: Jaejoong finds himself walking on a thin line, wondering if having nothing, or nothing, is better.
Reread the first?
-
He parks at a corner, a quiet beep reverberating in the space as he strides towards the personal lift.
Surveying Yunho's section of private lots, he notices that the black Camaro that Yunho favors is absent. Yunho probably isn't home yet, he guesses, but it's something that doesn't require much thought. Being the founder of an e-commerce company billed to take over Asia doesn't really leave anyone much free time.
Scanning his thumbprint to activate the lift, he wishes silently that he had a little more guts to park his car in one of Yunho's lots. Pulling a face at his reflection in the lift's mirrors as it opens, he sighs to himself as it closes. It's a statement to pronounce his presence alright, but he really doesn't want to make the man angry.
Plus it's been so long since he has seen Yunho.
Falling back tiredly, the balustrade presses against his back as he watches the numbers climb slowly. His thoughts stray to the man, and the fathomless desperation creeps in once more, the urge to push his way into Yunho's personal space incredibly forceful. He's learnt to keep the craving under lock and key, less Yunho shows him the way out.
He doesn't like to dwell on what-ifs because it's a dangerous, never ending spiral, and he doesn't let himself ask what if Yunho didn't own a company whose network of shoppers that grow monthly by the millions, but it's always during the trip up to the penthouse that he questions their ill circumstance.
Scanning his retina at the peephole, he pushes the door open wider as the light in the doorway flicks on. The sight of everything having a neat place in Yunho's bachelor’s pad is a needless reminder that the man doesn't have any space for him. It aggravates him, and he shakes his hair roughly in frustration, releasing an infuriated noise of discontent as he strides to the bedroom before stopping abruptly as a thought crosses his mind. Maybe he could cook something to wedge a place for himself. Then Yunho could come back to warm food...
The idea pleases him, and he reaches for his back pocket, only to realise that he had forgotten everything in his car in his mess of nerves and excitement. Flinging his hands up as he yells in exasperation, he grouches back towards the bedroom, breath shallow with rage. Pushing the master bedroom door open roughly, the lights brighten slowly at his presence as he eyes take in the new set of patterned sheets that he hasn’t seen before.
He isn't mad that he had left his things behind, but angry at how much control Yunho has over him. He had been practically tripping over himself to rush to the man's house, and it was completely pathetic.
He hates how off-center the man makes him feel, and how vulnerable he has become, the way he would comb desperately through the blur of faces as he sang on stage, wildly hoping that maybe Yunho would be one of them.
He hates the way he has to restrain himself, scheduling his visits just so that Yunho wouldn't remove him from the biometric data and bar him from entry.
He hates how needy and desperate he feels, his chest tight in a knot like he's asphyxiating.
He needs Yunho, he thinks miserably to his reflection in the dresser before quickly biting painfully on his upper lip in penance for the illicit thought. His fingers reach for the cologne he had gifted Yunho, a gesture that he had presented as a casual purchase from an airport stopover- a complete, utter lie.
The cologne had been the most subtle form of possessiveness he had ingeniously calculated to engineer right under Yunho's nose.
He had spent considerable time researching and sniffing for the scent that best represented Yunho's raw, sensual masculinity, and the knowledge that it now coats Yunho's sinewy pleases him. Spritzing a little onto his wrists, he feels himself relaxing as he breathes in the interlaced scent of bergamot and black tea.
Spraying a little more onto his hands, he combs through the ends of his hair before wiping the excess onto the back of his neck. Suitably composed now, he gives his reflection a weak smile before turning away, leaving to sleep with Yunho all around him.
- - -
When he awakes, Yunho's hand is cupping the back of his neck, the other’s face pressed tightly against his bare chest.
His heart falters for a moment before quickly speeding up, a tight beat that makes him dizzy as it lifts in his ribcage.
He wonders if Yunho can hear it.
He tries to steady himself, not moving as he revels in the sensation of being held. It's what he needs, the pretense that Yunho cares.
The man is incredibly affectionate on bed, and he had missed this, the tactile delusion of endearment.
Focusing on the warm length of arm across his side, he lets himself relax, fingers carding through the other's hair as he eases into the embrace.
He falls asleep while trying his best to not be too disappointed at being unable to see the other's face.
- - -
The next time he rouses, their legs are entwined. The unmistakable musk of Yunho's cologne is at its strongest now, and he shifts uncomfortably at the bright record of his deeds. The faint spice of cinnamon still clings lightly to him, and Yunho would know easily that he had snooped through his dresser.
Eyes shutting in agony, he shifts his arm to Yunho's biceps, only to start at the size of the man's muscles. He feels his cock stir, and he groans softly in frustration as he extracts himself quickly. Kissing Yunho's cheek softly before tucking the blanket higher, he makes his way to the toilet to wash Yunho's scent off. He has the man for company now anyway.
-
Immediately stripping off his briefs in Yunho's walk-in closet, he pokes around carelessly for a change of clothes while taking a loose stock of Yunho's belongings. Slipping one of the other man’s rings onto his finger, he marvels at the ill fit for a short moment before returning it into the display drawer.
Catching his reflection in the mirror, he gasps at the smudge of eyeliner at his bottom lids before quickly rushing to the toilet to dab inconsequentially at it.
Flushing the barely stained paper away into the bowl with a grumble, he appraises his form in the length of mirror numbly before combing his hair back in frustration. Maybe he should just bathe, then wake Yunho naked. Then he wouldn't have to figure which clothes the man wouldn't mind him wearing.
Slumping, he enters the shower chamber.
The warm water rains onto his face and he shifts slightly to wet his body as he squeezes a little shampoo into his palm. Bringing it to his nose, he takes a satisfied sniff at the scent that's decidedly Yunho, humming to himself as he massages it into his scalp.
Leaving the other's hair conditioner to set while lathering the soap onto his body, he represses the thoughts to buy Yunho soap for the umpteenth time. It's a complete overstep of position, he chatises himself. So what if Yunho likes his soap unscented? Frowning to himself as he flicks his penis lightly, he watches detachedly as it swells to half-mast. He can feel the coiling anticipation within him, the urge to savour every inch of the man.
He first met Yunho at a bar after a three-day concert in Japan. Energy still rolling in his belly after the celebratory dinner with the concert staff, the chain establishment called out to him; reminding him of the smaller set of performances he had conducted in conjunction with the bar to commemorate his fifth year of debut in Japan.
He had initially been chatting with his manager about his next few concepts over the drinks when the increasingly dopey man had suggested him to go up to sing. Agreeing easily without much thought, he took a random song request after a short introduction as a guest singer.
Yunho had been near the end of the room that night, but his eyes had fixed unwaveringly at him despite the general intoxication of his table mates. And he had reciprocated, spending most of his performance returning the look.
Yunho had the kind of palpable presence and whenever he sat down to listen to propositions or general discussions, it felt as if even his soul had settled to listen and he was picking up on every pause and nuance. It was heady to be able to command such response to the point of validation, but it was simultaneously intimidating. He had been unnerved as he performed, compelled to return the gaze as the lyrics spilled out of his mouth.
Yunho had later smiled at him in the toilet before asking if he was Korean (judging from the slip of accent during the song), and after a casual chat, he had invited Yunho back home. It wasn't the smoothest thing to do, but he had wanted Yunho so badly then. The other was like a deep vacuum that his soul arched to reach for, and the need had never relented, instead escalating into his current reality. Breathing deeply into Yunho's soft towel, he dries himself off quickly as goosebumps start to break out. Appraising himself at the mirror once more as he presses at his hair, he shrugs to himself before replacing the towel, returning to find the air conditioning in the dimly lit room switched off.
Sighing disappointedly as he picks Yunho's dress shirt off the floor, he flops naked onto the bed in defeat, nerves coiling in his belly. Pressing his face into the pillow, he suppresses the indelible want for more; of things that he doesn't deserve, and shouldn't be craving for. Yunho needs a stable family, a beautiful wife to provide him with the 2.1 children he’s more than entitled to.
Yunho needs a woman with the smarts and the independence, whereas he's... he's lacking certain body parts for reproduction, and he gets clingy.
It's nothing or nothing, he reminds himself desperately as he tries to wash the lump in his throat away with saliva.
It's nothing or nothing, he repeats to himself as he drops the other's shirt into the laundry basket in the toilet, not letting himself feel anything at the sight of their clothes mixed together, or at the brush of Yunho's worn pajamas against his skin.
Because if it was nothing or nothing, he'd take the first any day until the second arrives in due course. Then he'd have nothing.
-
"Yunho," he calls out carefully as he walks down the hallway, stopping in shock at the sight of Yunho working at the stove.
"Are you actually cooking? Wow," he breathes in awe as he marvels at the fit of Yunho's plain apron and the contrast of the black ties against the other's bare back. When had Yunho learnt to actually operate the stove and was the apron new?
Yunho looks a little flustered at the scrutiny, and it's probably the way that he's leering at the man. Shuffling awkwardly, he tugs at his bottoms weakly, hoping that his rousing approval doesn't show.
"I just kind of have this urge for pancakes recently," Yunho shrugs lightly, and he kicks himself mentally as the man returns to the pan. Did he actually think that Yunho was cooking for him?
"Oh, that's nice. I haven't had pancakes for some time," he interjects lamely as if his opinion matters. He hops easily onto the counter in an act of instrumented nonchalance. Yunho looks at him for a moment too long, and he freezes, only regaining himself when the other turns away. He hates how Yunho makes him second guess every single word that he utters, and he decides to draw upon his devil-may-care onstage persona.
"How's work?" Yunho asks him casually, and he shrugs as he begin to kick his legs lightly. He tries not to think about the vast difference between the things they do for a living- Yunho a successful businessman, him a random entertainer in an industry that often value aesthetics more than substance. Maybe Yunho was here for the former.
Most likely.
"Good, I guess? I'm having more creative freedom with my concerts this time, so it's great." He was actually proud that his seniority had been enough to assure the company that he had constructive inputs for the concert wardrobe. In fact, it was more than great actually. Flashing a smile, he notices that Yunho's focusing hard on the slow cook of the pan. Probably the other’s perfectionist streak acting up.
"So when are you leaving?" Yunho suddenly asks, and he freezes, the back of his foot hitting the cupboard's panel noisily. Was Yunho too busy this weekend? Should he have not come? But it had been more than a month already! The knowledge of Yunho already tiring of him scares him.
"Korea, I mean," Yunho interjects, and Jaejoong watches the other's hands flitting in midair as if lost and unsure what to engage in.
Was it a calm before a storm? Had Yunho accidentally let slip of the plans he had in mind?
"In five days," he replies softly as he tries to read Yunho carefully. The man nods imperceptibly, and he waits for Yunho to begin talking about his new arrangement, that he long had enough.
He would nod and agree like it didn't really matter, before returning home to cry his eyes out for days until the Japan leg of his Asia tour continued.
He opens his mouth in pride to tell Yunho to get along with it, that he knows that he isn't wanted anymore, when Yunho interrupts him.
"Can you take the plates and stuff?" He blinks at the obvious dismissal before nodding silently.
Shaking his head forcefully to clear his thoughts, he hops off the counter to set the tables, ignoring the ridiculous urge to only take one of everything so that they could share a plate and feed each other. Yunho would probably catch on to his line of thoughts before deciding that Jaejoong was toeing the line though.
He ogles as Yunho removes his apron to reveal his chest, his eyes immediately following the curves of the man's shoulders down to his collarbones, then to the other’s pectorals. Savoring the other's dark nipples with his eyes, he trails down the grooves of the Yunho's abs to the fine hair leading to the top the other's waistband, quickly clamping down on the stirring excitement within him. Yunho was gorgeous; the embodiment of sin.
"So how's work?" He quickly rushes to distract himself. Yunho was an upstanding individual of the society, and his work would surely inject propriety back into his thoughts. He watches Yunho falter a little as if not expecting the question entirely. Yunho probably doesn't have much people daring to ask such questions, and it pleases him to be an exception. He would work to figure out later if being an anomaly was a good thing or otherwise.
"Okay, I suppose," Yunho replies modestly, and he suppresses the indomitable urge to roll his eyes. Yunho always downplayed so much of his achievements that it aggravated him sometimes.
"Saw you on the news. Something about improving logistics dispatchment with warehouses scattered nationwide or something." He continues vaguely like he doesn't know the finer details of the project. It was an investment in conjunction with a few of his businesses partners to collectively improve Korea's logistics process in the long run.
He nearly roll his eyes for real at the unchecked disbelief on the businessman's face.
"You actually watch the news?" Yunho says in a tone that sounds a lot like awe, and he yelps in affrontation before snorting in laughter.
"Obviously I do," he leans forward as he smiles impishly at the other. "They sometimes report about me," he finishes in jest before squeezing more maple syrup onto his pancake than necessary. Shrugging to himself at the pleasing sight of the pancake's sodden pores, he works to cut it into little pieces.
While he usually doesn't have much time for the news, he occasionally grab a copy of newspapers during flights, or stop to watch the news while channel surfing. Besides, anything about the company was by extension about Yunho. And anything about Yunho interests him.
They fall silent as they eat, and Jaejoong moves on to his second pancake in satisfaction. They usually have Yunho's expensive catered lunchboxes for meals, and while he had cooked thrice, it's his first time tasting Yunho's cooking.
"Aren't you going to add any syrup?" He asks in concern when Yunho is close to finishing his first plain pancake. He doesn't really understand when Yunho replies about liking the buttery taste alone, so he shrugs carelessly as he squeezes more syrup onto his piece.
He's almost giddy with excitement as he cuts his second slice up. He loves how domestic it feels, and he suddenly frowns to himself as the information that Yunho has offered hits home.
Why does Yunho have syrup if he doesn't like it? He frowns at the idea that Yunho had bought it for him. It's too hopeful a thought, and he begins to despair at the possibility of Yunho having a secret lady partner. Maybe all this cooking was for his beautiful lady friends. Females liked men who cooked, right?
He slumps a little as he chews on a small triangle of pancake. It's suddenly too sweet for his liking, and he has the urge to dilute it with his tears. He desperately reminds himself to call before coming down the next time. He wouldn't like seeing Yunho fucking a woman into his bed.
Yunho suddenly gestures for him, and he brightens, effectively distracted from his misery as he slides over to the man. Settling on Yunho's lap, he presses his nose against the other's face as he wrap his arms around the man's neck, palms caressing the skin carefully.
Their bodies fit quickly, Yunho's arms sliding around his waist. He can feel the nerves in his body awakening, lighting up at the trail of fingers. The man begins to suck at the skin behind his ear so softly that he wants to believe that it's adoration; that Yunho adores him. He whimpers at the wanton thought as wanton sensations course through him at the stimulation.
Yunho's hands start to move, trailing along his body, and there's almost a tremble under his fingers. It's so soft, sounding so much like doubt, and there are tears on his tongue. Jaejoong's lost in translation, but he clings tightly as he takes blindly, desperate to comprehend.
He hears a plea on Yunho's lips, and the other's fingers are shaky, unsure and almost reverent. He doesn't understand, and he doesn't dare to believe.
Yunho's leaving a trial within his soul with his own, and he tries to unravel the clues, but it's so hard to reach them with the noise in his head.
Yunho can't like him. Yunho wouldn't like him. Yunho is Yunho. But...
It feels like there isn't much time left, that if he doesn't understand want Yunho means, he’d lose everything soon. He pull his lips away gently as he holds onto Yunho tightly, careful to not lose the other.
Yunho's breath is labored, his eyes shut. The man looks broken and afraid, emotions twisted painfully over his face. His heart is aching in sorrow, and he wonders for a moment what demons he would see if Yunho's eyes were open.
Pressing their foreheads together, he synchronize their breaths as he gathers his thoughts hurriedly. Because what if? What if Yunho really wanted him? What if Yunho wanted to hold him through the nights and be there for his concerts? It’s a greedy, unfathomable, distant fancy that he had long outlawed, but what if? He follows the muscular curves of the back he had spent nights memorizing to steady himself, but the words refuse to leave his mind. What if?
Isn't it nothing or nothing? There's so much to lose, and he isn't able to afford the mistake.
But there's not too much of a difference between both, the greed within him voices smoothly. He doesn't have Yunho either way.
"And I love you too, Yunho," it escapes his mouth shakily, a tremble of whisper as his nervous hand caresses Yunho's face before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear with a quiver. His heartbeat has quickened two folds, and he's close to passing out, breathless as he waits for the other's response.
Yunho's eyes open finally and he feels his heart breaking free of its tether as he takes in the hope and promises burning within.
- - - - -
A/N: Late post is late. I'm sorry if you didn't even want it (/sad kid feels) but I hope that it wasn't too repetitive for a sequel of perspective. :( Leave a comment!
Prev Chap | Next Chap
Author: countingcr0ws
Pairing/ Characters: Yunjae
Rating: PG
Form: One-shot, Sequel ( 1 | 2 )
Genre: AU, Generally Happy, Lucid, Slice of Life
Summary: Jaejoong finds himself walking on a thin line, wondering if having nothing, or nothing, is better.
Reread the first?
-
He parks at a corner, a quiet beep reverberating in the space as he strides towards the personal lift.
Surveying Yunho's section of private lots, he notices that the black Camaro that Yunho favors is absent. Yunho probably isn't home yet, he guesses, but it's something that doesn't require much thought. Being the founder of an e-commerce company billed to take over Asia doesn't really leave anyone much free time.
Scanning his thumbprint to activate the lift, he wishes silently that he had a little more guts to park his car in one of Yunho's lots. Pulling a face at his reflection in the lift's mirrors as it opens, he sighs to himself as it closes. It's a statement to pronounce his presence alright, but he really doesn't want to make the man angry.
Plus it's been so long since he has seen Yunho.
Falling back tiredly, the balustrade presses against his back as he watches the numbers climb slowly. His thoughts stray to the man, and the fathomless desperation creeps in once more, the urge to push his way into Yunho's personal space incredibly forceful. He's learnt to keep the craving under lock and key, less Yunho shows him the way out.
He doesn't like to dwell on what-ifs because it's a dangerous, never ending spiral, and he doesn't let himself ask what if Yunho didn't own a company whose network of shoppers that grow monthly by the millions, but it's always during the trip up to the penthouse that he questions their ill circumstance.
Scanning his retina at the peephole, he pushes the door open wider as the light in the doorway flicks on. The sight of everything having a neat place in Yunho's bachelor’s pad is a needless reminder that the man doesn't have any space for him. It aggravates him, and he shakes his hair roughly in frustration, releasing an infuriated noise of discontent as he strides to the bedroom before stopping abruptly as a thought crosses his mind. Maybe he could cook something to wedge a place for himself. Then Yunho could come back to warm food...
The idea pleases him, and he reaches for his back pocket, only to realise that he had forgotten everything in his car in his mess of nerves and excitement. Flinging his hands up as he yells in exasperation, he grouches back towards the bedroom, breath shallow with rage. Pushing the master bedroom door open roughly, the lights brighten slowly at his presence as he eyes take in the new set of patterned sheets that he hasn’t seen before.
He isn't mad that he had left his things behind, but angry at how much control Yunho has over him. He had been practically tripping over himself to rush to the man's house, and it was completely pathetic.
He hates how off-center the man makes him feel, and how vulnerable he has become, the way he would comb desperately through the blur of faces as he sang on stage, wildly hoping that maybe Yunho would be one of them.
He hates the way he has to restrain himself, scheduling his visits just so that Yunho wouldn't remove him from the biometric data and bar him from entry.
He hates how needy and desperate he feels, his chest tight in a knot like he's asphyxiating.
He needs Yunho, he thinks miserably to his reflection in the dresser before quickly biting painfully on his upper lip in penance for the illicit thought. His fingers reach for the cologne he had gifted Yunho, a gesture that he had presented as a casual purchase from an airport stopover- a complete, utter lie.
The cologne had been the most subtle form of possessiveness he had ingeniously calculated to engineer right under Yunho's nose.
He had spent considerable time researching and sniffing for the scent that best represented Yunho's raw, sensual masculinity, and the knowledge that it now coats Yunho's sinewy pleases him. Spritzing a little onto his wrists, he feels himself relaxing as he breathes in the interlaced scent of bergamot and black tea.
Spraying a little more onto his hands, he combs through the ends of his hair before wiping the excess onto the back of his neck. Suitably composed now, he gives his reflection a weak smile before turning away, leaving to sleep with Yunho all around him.
- - -
When he awakes, Yunho's hand is cupping the back of his neck, the other’s face pressed tightly against his bare chest.
His heart falters for a moment before quickly speeding up, a tight beat that makes him dizzy as it lifts in his ribcage.
He wonders if Yunho can hear it.
He tries to steady himself, not moving as he revels in the sensation of being held. It's what he needs, the pretense that Yunho cares.
The man is incredibly affectionate on bed, and he had missed this, the tactile delusion of endearment.
Focusing on the warm length of arm across his side, he lets himself relax, fingers carding through the other's hair as he eases into the embrace.
He falls asleep while trying his best to not be too disappointed at being unable to see the other's face.
- - -
The next time he rouses, their legs are entwined. The unmistakable musk of Yunho's cologne is at its strongest now, and he shifts uncomfortably at the bright record of his deeds. The faint spice of cinnamon still clings lightly to him, and Yunho would know easily that he had snooped through his dresser.
Eyes shutting in agony, he shifts his arm to Yunho's biceps, only to start at the size of the man's muscles. He feels his cock stir, and he groans softly in frustration as he extracts himself quickly. Kissing Yunho's cheek softly before tucking the blanket higher, he makes his way to the toilet to wash Yunho's scent off. He has the man for company now anyway.
-
Immediately stripping off his briefs in Yunho's walk-in closet, he pokes around carelessly for a change of clothes while taking a loose stock of Yunho's belongings. Slipping one of the other man’s rings onto his finger, he marvels at the ill fit for a short moment before returning it into the display drawer.
Catching his reflection in the mirror, he gasps at the smudge of eyeliner at his bottom lids before quickly rushing to the toilet to dab inconsequentially at it.
Flushing the barely stained paper away into the bowl with a grumble, he appraises his form in the length of mirror numbly before combing his hair back in frustration. Maybe he should just bathe, then wake Yunho naked. Then he wouldn't have to figure which clothes the man wouldn't mind him wearing.
Slumping, he enters the shower chamber.
The warm water rains onto his face and he shifts slightly to wet his body as he squeezes a little shampoo into his palm. Bringing it to his nose, he takes a satisfied sniff at the scent that's decidedly Yunho, humming to himself as he massages it into his scalp.
Leaving the other's hair conditioner to set while lathering the soap onto his body, he represses the thoughts to buy Yunho soap for the umpteenth time. It's a complete overstep of position, he chatises himself. So what if Yunho likes his soap unscented? Frowning to himself as he flicks his penis lightly, he watches detachedly as it swells to half-mast. He can feel the coiling anticipation within him, the urge to savour every inch of the man.
He first met Yunho at a bar after a three-day concert in Japan. Energy still rolling in his belly after the celebratory dinner with the concert staff, the chain establishment called out to him; reminding him of the smaller set of performances he had conducted in conjunction with the bar to commemorate his fifth year of debut in Japan.
He had initially been chatting with his manager about his next few concepts over the drinks when the increasingly dopey man had suggested him to go up to sing. Agreeing easily without much thought, he took a random song request after a short introduction as a guest singer.
Yunho had been near the end of the room that night, but his eyes had fixed unwaveringly at him despite the general intoxication of his table mates. And he had reciprocated, spending most of his performance returning the look.
Yunho had the kind of palpable presence and whenever he sat down to listen to propositions or general discussions, it felt as if even his soul had settled to listen and he was picking up on every pause and nuance. It was heady to be able to command such response to the point of validation, but it was simultaneously intimidating. He had been unnerved as he performed, compelled to return the gaze as the lyrics spilled out of his mouth.
Yunho had later smiled at him in the toilet before asking if he was Korean (judging from the slip of accent during the song), and after a casual chat, he had invited Yunho back home. It wasn't the smoothest thing to do, but he had wanted Yunho so badly then. The other was like a deep vacuum that his soul arched to reach for, and the need had never relented, instead escalating into his current reality. Breathing deeply into Yunho's soft towel, he dries himself off quickly as goosebumps start to break out. Appraising himself at the mirror once more as he presses at his hair, he shrugs to himself before replacing the towel, returning to find the air conditioning in the dimly lit room switched off.
Sighing disappointedly as he picks Yunho's dress shirt off the floor, he flops naked onto the bed in defeat, nerves coiling in his belly. Pressing his face into the pillow, he suppresses the indelible want for more; of things that he doesn't deserve, and shouldn't be craving for. Yunho needs a stable family, a beautiful wife to provide him with the 2.1 children he’s more than entitled to.
Yunho needs a woman with the smarts and the independence, whereas he's... he's lacking certain body parts for reproduction, and he gets clingy.
It's nothing or nothing, he reminds himself desperately as he tries to wash the lump in his throat away with saliva.
It's nothing or nothing, he repeats to himself as he drops the other's shirt into the laundry basket in the toilet, not letting himself feel anything at the sight of their clothes mixed together, or at the brush of Yunho's worn pajamas against his skin.
Because if it was nothing or nothing, he'd take the first any day until the second arrives in due course. Then he'd have nothing.
-
"Yunho," he calls out carefully as he walks down the hallway, stopping in shock at the sight of Yunho working at the stove.
"Are you actually cooking? Wow," he breathes in awe as he marvels at the fit of Yunho's plain apron and the contrast of the black ties against the other's bare back. When had Yunho learnt to actually operate the stove and was the apron new?
Yunho looks a little flustered at the scrutiny, and it's probably the way that he's leering at the man. Shuffling awkwardly, he tugs at his bottoms weakly, hoping that his rousing approval doesn't show.
"I just kind of have this urge for pancakes recently," Yunho shrugs lightly, and he kicks himself mentally as the man returns to the pan. Did he actually think that Yunho was cooking for him?
"Oh, that's nice. I haven't had pancakes for some time," he interjects lamely as if his opinion matters. He hops easily onto the counter in an act of instrumented nonchalance. Yunho looks at him for a moment too long, and he freezes, only regaining himself when the other turns away. He hates how Yunho makes him second guess every single word that he utters, and he decides to draw upon his devil-may-care onstage persona.
"How's work?" Yunho asks him casually, and he shrugs as he begin to kick his legs lightly. He tries not to think about the vast difference between the things they do for a living- Yunho a successful businessman, him a random entertainer in an industry that often value aesthetics more than substance. Maybe Yunho was here for the former.
Most likely.
"Good, I guess? I'm having more creative freedom with my concerts this time, so it's great." He was actually proud that his seniority had been enough to assure the company that he had constructive inputs for the concert wardrobe. In fact, it was more than great actually. Flashing a smile, he notices that Yunho's focusing hard on the slow cook of the pan. Probably the other’s perfectionist streak acting up.
"So when are you leaving?" Yunho suddenly asks, and he freezes, the back of his foot hitting the cupboard's panel noisily. Was Yunho too busy this weekend? Should he have not come? But it had been more than a month already! The knowledge of Yunho already tiring of him scares him.
"Korea, I mean," Yunho interjects, and Jaejoong watches the other's hands flitting in midair as if lost and unsure what to engage in.
Was it a calm before a storm? Had Yunho accidentally let slip of the plans he had in mind?
"In five days," he replies softly as he tries to read Yunho carefully. The man nods imperceptibly, and he waits for Yunho to begin talking about his new arrangement, that he long had enough.
He would nod and agree like it didn't really matter, before returning home to cry his eyes out for days until the Japan leg of his Asia tour continued.
He opens his mouth in pride to tell Yunho to get along with it, that he knows that he isn't wanted anymore, when Yunho interrupts him.
"Can you take the plates and stuff?" He blinks at the obvious dismissal before nodding silently.
Shaking his head forcefully to clear his thoughts, he hops off the counter to set the tables, ignoring the ridiculous urge to only take one of everything so that they could share a plate and feed each other. Yunho would probably catch on to his line of thoughts before deciding that Jaejoong was toeing the line though.
He ogles as Yunho removes his apron to reveal his chest, his eyes immediately following the curves of the man's shoulders down to his collarbones, then to the other’s pectorals. Savoring the other's dark nipples with his eyes, he trails down the grooves of the Yunho's abs to the fine hair leading to the top the other's waistband, quickly clamping down on the stirring excitement within him. Yunho was gorgeous; the embodiment of sin.
"So how's work?" He quickly rushes to distract himself. Yunho was an upstanding individual of the society, and his work would surely inject propriety back into his thoughts. He watches Yunho falter a little as if not expecting the question entirely. Yunho probably doesn't have much people daring to ask such questions, and it pleases him to be an exception. He would work to figure out later if being an anomaly was a good thing or otherwise.
"Okay, I suppose," Yunho replies modestly, and he suppresses the indomitable urge to roll his eyes. Yunho always downplayed so much of his achievements that it aggravated him sometimes.
"Saw you on the news. Something about improving logistics dispatchment with warehouses scattered nationwide or something." He continues vaguely like he doesn't know the finer details of the project. It was an investment in conjunction with a few of his businesses partners to collectively improve Korea's logistics process in the long run.
He nearly roll his eyes for real at the unchecked disbelief on the businessman's face.
"You actually watch the news?" Yunho says in a tone that sounds a lot like awe, and he yelps in affrontation before snorting in laughter.
"Obviously I do," he leans forward as he smiles impishly at the other. "They sometimes report about me," he finishes in jest before squeezing more maple syrup onto his pancake than necessary. Shrugging to himself at the pleasing sight of the pancake's sodden pores, he works to cut it into little pieces.
While he usually doesn't have much time for the news, he occasionally grab a copy of newspapers during flights, or stop to watch the news while channel surfing. Besides, anything about the company was by extension about Yunho. And anything about Yunho interests him.
They fall silent as they eat, and Jaejoong moves on to his second pancake in satisfaction. They usually have Yunho's expensive catered lunchboxes for meals, and while he had cooked thrice, it's his first time tasting Yunho's cooking.
"Aren't you going to add any syrup?" He asks in concern when Yunho is close to finishing his first plain pancake. He doesn't really understand when Yunho replies about liking the buttery taste alone, so he shrugs carelessly as he squeezes more syrup onto his piece.
He's almost giddy with excitement as he cuts his second slice up. He loves how domestic it feels, and he suddenly frowns to himself as the information that Yunho has offered hits home.
Why does Yunho have syrup if he doesn't like it? He frowns at the idea that Yunho had bought it for him. It's too hopeful a thought, and he begins to despair at the possibility of Yunho having a secret lady partner. Maybe all this cooking was for his beautiful lady friends. Females liked men who cooked, right?
He slumps a little as he chews on a small triangle of pancake. It's suddenly too sweet for his liking, and he has the urge to dilute it with his tears. He desperately reminds himself to call before coming down the next time. He wouldn't like seeing Yunho fucking a woman into his bed.
Yunho suddenly gestures for him, and he brightens, effectively distracted from his misery as he slides over to the man. Settling on Yunho's lap, he presses his nose against the other's face as he wrap his arms around the man's neck, palms caressing the skin carefully.
Their bodies fit quickly, Yunho's arms sliding around his waist. He can feel the nerves in his body awakening, lighting up at the trail of fingers. The man begins to suck at the skin behind his ear so softly that he wants to believe that it's adoration; that Yunho adores him. He whimpers at the wanton thought as wanton sensations course through him at the stimulation.
Yunho's hands start to move, trailing along his body, and there's almost a tremble under his fingers. It's so soft, sounding so much like doubt, and there are tears on his tongue. Jaejoong's lost in translation, but he clings tightly as he takes blindly, desperate to comprehend.
He hears a plea on Yunho's lips, and the other's fingers are shaky, unsure and almost reverent. He doesn't understand, and he doesn't dare to believe.
Yunho's leaving a trial within his soul with his own, and he tries to unravel the clues, but it's so hard to reach them with the noise in his head.
Yunho can't like him. Yunho wouldn't like him. Yunho is Yunho. But...
It feels like there isn't much time left, that if he doesn't understand want Yunho means, he’d lose everything soon. He pull his lips away gently as he holds onto Yunho tightly, careful to not lose the other.
Yunho's breath is labored, his eyes shut. The man looks broken and afraid, emotions twisted painfully over his face. His heart is aching in sorrow, and he wonders for a moment what demons he would see if Yunho's eyes were open.
Pressing their foreheads together, he synchronize their breaths as he gathers his thoughts hurriedly. Because what if? What if Yunho really wanted him? What if Yunho wanted to hold him through the nights and be there for his concerts? It’s a greedy, unfathomable, distant fancy that he had long outlawed, but what if? He follows the muscular curves of the back he had spent nights memorizing to steady himself, but the words refuse to leave his mind. What if?
Isn't it nothing or nothing? There's so much to lose, and he isn't able to afford the mistake.
But there's not too much of a difference between both, the greed within him voices smoothly. He doesn't have Yunho either way.
"And I love you too, Yunho," it escapes his mouth shakily, a tremble of whisper as his nervous hand caresses Yunho's face before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear with a quiver. His heartbeat has quickened two folds, and he's close to passing out, breathless as he waits for the other's response.
Yunho's eyes open finally and he feels his heart breaking free of its tether as he takes in the hope and promises burning within.
- - - - -
A/N: Late post is late. I'm sorry if you didn't even want it (/sad kid feels) but I hope that it wasn't too repetitive for a sequel of perspective. :( Leave a comment!
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