#01. your paper heart;
: your paper heart
: yoochun/junsu | pg
: junsu hates thunderstorms, but it's okay as long as yoochun is there to hold his hand.
: for swallowtt because she needed to be cheered up. ♥
Junsu finds the rain to be a terribly depressing sight.
He isn’t sure why he hates the pounding downpour so much, but he does and he supposes that that is all that really matters. Sometimes, he muses, it’s for the fact that he really can’t go anywhere, no one is playing or laughing, and the world is unmoving around him.
Everything - everyone - is dead.
He stays burrowed under blankets, the soft white sheets creating a shield from the rain. Underneath this wispy barrier he thinks up fantasies of knights and princesses and most importantly, sunshine. There is nothing but blue skies and cotton-like clouds that gently glide past. In his little world there aren’t any storm clouds to dampen his mood or make anyone cry.
Other times, Junsu believes that it’s only because he feels lonely on rainy days. Jaejoong loves the rain, usually taking walks throughout the sleepless city that turns various tints of gray during the light showers that tap against the apartment rooftop, and Yunho cannot help but to accompany him on days like these. Changmin studies for tests, the rain giving him peace of mind, and he stays tucked into the corners of their couch with his books scattered across any bare space of carpeted floor.
He wraps the covers tighter around him, pulling his knees closer to his body as he cuddles deeper into the pillows beneath his dark brown tresses. He briefly reflects on summer skies and coffee kisses, a pinch of mints and something foreign but altogether similar lingering in the air.
“Junnie, what are you doing in bed?” a voice calls out lowly, a set of bare feet padding across the cold hardwood floor as they come closer with each and ever step. Junsu feels hands on his back, trailing down and down and down before they stop at his lower back, lightly massaging. “More specifically, what are you doing in my bed?”
Junsu tugs his head out from under the covers, his eyes barely peering over the stitched hem of the sheets, and he takes in his surroundings. The room’s cool air seeps through his barrier, sending shivers and tingles racing down his spine, but he tries to ignore the biting chill that pricks his bare arms and legs, only covered by the thin blankets and his sleeping shorts and tank top. Yoochun had not turned on the main lights, the room only set aglow by the streetlights outside and the lamp in between Jae and Yoochun’s beds.
“I missed you…” Junsu says slowly, questioningly, and tries to hide his smile by pulling the covers back up, but Yoochun catches it anyway. He always does.
Yoochun chuckles lightly, pressing his weight into the mattress that Junsu is huddled on. “You idiot. Why do you even bother lying to me? I know you too well for that.”
Junsu pouts, forgetting all about the drizzle outside the bedroom window until a clap of thunder sounds in the distance. He jumps, not expecting the thunderous roar that rivaled that of a lion’s at the zoo Changmin had once dragged him to. He whimpers behind the blankets, trying to contain his quivering lip by clamping down hard on it with his top row of teeth.
“Junnie, baby, shh,” his best friend coos, running his hand up and down Junsu’s back, soothing circles being drawn with by his thumbs. It calms down the baritenor enough so he will move to the side and allow room for Yoochun. “I’m right here; nothing to fear.”
And Junsu opens his eyes once more, finally looking at the man he can always depend on. Breathing, smiling, beautiful before him. Junsu feels his heart thump faster, almost as if trying to break free from its confines and land in Yoochun’s awaiting hands; he bites his lip to contain the smile that is surely showing in his eyes.
Yoochun’s hair is tousled, unruly black locks sticking up in an odd array of tangles and raindrops. His fair skin is sprinkled with fresh dewdrops that glisten in the dull lamplight that shines over their bodies. Junsu touches his finger to one drop, feeling the cool liquid on his finger before he brings it to his lips almost unconsciously. Yoochun remains silent, just watches, and lets his fingers play at the fraying ends of his quilt out of habit.
Junsu breaks eye contact first, fear and nervousness swelling inside his stomach, and his fists clench as he anxiously awaits what happens next. He draws his attention away to a dark blue umbrella laying open on the floor beside the bed, obviously brought in by Yoochun and recently used.
“Seven years of bad luck,” he murmurs, pointing at the said object of such luck, a large grin spread across his full pink lips.
Yoochun frowns, sulky, and states, “Nuh-uh. I opened outside, I just never shut it.”
“It doesn’t matter, you still have bad luck,” Junsu says as if his word is final, and he knows it will be; Yoochun never argues when they’re alone like this, tangled up within each other’s hearts.
The baritone grins good-naturedly, ruffling his friend’s sleep mussed hairs, and says, “Well, then, as my bestest friend in the whole wide world you must spend the next seven unlucky years by my side.”
“No way. That’s Jae’s job.”
Yoochun pouts; the expression is too cute and too odd for Junsu to resist. So he reaches his fingers up and tugs at the rounded flesh, smooth skin running across his fingertips. They pause, caught up within one another’s gazes once more, and they are not too sure who will pull away first.
Yoochun shifts closer; Junsu doesn’t move away.
The elder runs his index and middle fingers along Junsu’s tanned wrist, tickling the undersides of his arms with the feather-light touches. He shivers at the contact but refuses to pull away, caught up in the intense glaze in Yoochun’s endless chocolate orbs. He wants to lean closer, press their lips together in a fiery kiss that could rattle this whole room, but holds himself back.
“What are you doing, Yoochunnie?”
There’s a pause; Junsu lets out a soft mewl as Yoochun’s fingers press into the bend of his elbow, a sensitive spot on his arm. “I’m trying to see if your veins spell out my name.”
Junsu laughs, ignoring the annoyed grunt that emits from his best friend’s throat. “Do they?” He finds it silly, but Yoochun has never made much sense to Junsu.
Yoochun sighs, turning his watery gaze up to the baritenor. “No.” He slips closer to Junsu, their knees brushing against one another and his breath fanning across the younger’s face. “Do you know what that means.”
“No,” Junsu breathes, completely entranced by the elder’s every movement.
There is a small, sad smile that appears on the older male’s pale full lips. “You won’t bleed for me.” Then he tilts his head downwards, gaze no longer holding Junsu’s. “My veins spell your name; I’d bleed to keep you safe and happy, Junnie.
Junsu’s breath catches in his throat. “You don’t mean that.”
Yoochun laughs heartily, ear-splitting grin on his face but there is still a gloomy haze in his gorgeous eyes. “Yes, of course I mean it, babe. You laugh, I laugh. You cry, I cry -”
“You’ll cry first; you always are the first to cry, Yoochunnie. Just like the Proud performance. Remember?” Junsu giggles as Yoochun gives a groan of protest. He rests his forehead against Yoochun’s collar, tasting salty water on his lips as he breathes against milk white flesh. “What are you going to say next? If I jump off Tokyo Tower, you’ll jump, too.”
“No.”
Junsu glances up, confused and more than a little hurt by what Yoochun is implying with that one negative word. But he sees the look in Yoochun’s eyes; that heartbreakingly beautiful and raw tint that makes his eyes shine brighter than the morning sun.
“I wouldn’t let you jump. Ever.”
These are Yoochun’s final words; he lets their lips crash together just as soon as the lightening streaks across the sky and the thunder clashes once more. But Junsu cannot hear the raging storm through the pounding of his heart ringing in his ears as Yoochun’s lips caress his own. Feathery, butterfly kisses of touches brush against the column of his neck, drawing random designs on peach skin that flushes scarlet at the intimate contact.
When Yoochun pulls away Junsu feels like the air has been forcibly stolen from him. He doesn’t need oxygen to breathe; he needs Yoochun.
“You’re right, Yoochun; I won’t bleed for you,” Junsu mutters as he presses into the other’s warmth, fire burning in the pit of his gut and flaring as he creates friction against the other’s body. Yoochun looks confused and altogether saddened by Junsu’s words, but Junsu continues, hoping to gain a dazzling smile from his best friend, “I don’t want to bleed for you. I want to live for you.”
“I love you,” Yoochun croaks, eyes gathering with tears and Junsu knew he would cry; he always does. But it’s the most amazing thing in the world to see Yoochun like this, at his very weakest and not bothering to hide it away from him. It makes Yoochun that much stronger than any other person Junsu knows. “So much; I love you so very much, Junnie.”
Junsu replies with another kiss and an “I love you” of his own. His heart is paper thin and will rip if it’s dampened by raindrops, but he knows that there is no place safer for his heart to be. Yoochun’s hands provide shelter and security; his heart captures the younger’s and encases it in a loving barrier that will never let it crumble.
Later on Yoochun pulls the dark blue umbrella over their heads, separating them from the world around them, and they disappear into their own world. He tells Junsu stories and sings songs that have no words. Junsu in turn grins and hums along even if they are making up the song as they go on.
And Junsu realizes that he doesn’t mind the rain so much anymore…
… especially when its rhythm matches that of the melodic beatings of Yoochun’s - Junsu’s - heart.
: yoochun/junsu | pg
: junsu hates thunderstorms, but it's okay as long as yoochun is there to hold his hand.
: for swallowtt because she needed to be cheered up. ♥
Junsu finds the rain to be a terribly depressing sight.
He isn’t sure why he hates the pounding downpour so much, but he does and he supposes that that is all that really matters. Sometimes, he muses, it’s for the fact that he really can’t go anywhere, no one is playing or laughing, and the world is unmoving around him.
Everything - everyone - is dead.
He stays burrowed under blankets, the soft white sheets creating a shield from the rain. Underneath this wispy barrier he thinks up fantasies of knights and princesses and most importantly, sunshine. There is nothing but blue skies and cotton-like clouds that gently glide past. In his little world there aren’t any storm clouds to dampen his mood or make anyone cry.
Other times, Junsu believes that it’s only because he feels lonely on rainy days. Jaejoong loves the rain, usually taking walks throughout the sleepless city that turns various tints of gray during the light showers that tap against the apartment rooftop, and Yunho cannot help but to accompany him on days like these. Changmin studies for tests, the rain giving him peace of mind, and he stays tucked into the corners of their couch with his books scattered across any bare space of carpeted floor.
He wraps the covers tighter around him, pulling his knees closer to his body as he cuddles deeper into the pillows beneath his dark brown tresses. He briefly reflects on summer skies and coffee kisses, a pinch of mints and something foreign but altogether similar lingering in the air.
“Junnie, what are you doing in bed?” a voice calls out lowly, a set of bare feet padding across the cold hardwood floor as they come closer with each and ever step. Junsu feels hands on his back, trailing down and down and down before they stop at his lower back, lightly massaging. “More specifically, what are you doing in my bed?”
Junsu tugs his head out from under the covers, his eyes barely peering over the stitched hem of the sheets, and he takes in his surroundings. The room’s cool air seeps through his barrier, sending shivers and tingles racing down his spine, but he tries to ignore the biting chill that pricks his bare arms and legs, only covered by the thin blankets and his sleeping shorts and tank top. Yoochun had not turned on the main lights, the room only set aglow by the streetlights outside and the lamp in between Jae and Yoochun’s beds.
“I missed you…” Junsu says slowly, questioningly, and tries to hide his smile by pulling the covers back up, but Yoochun catches it anyway. He always does.
Yoochun chuckles lightly, pressing his weight into the mattress that Junsu is huddled on. “You idiot. Why do you even bother lying to me? I know you too well for that.”
Junsu pouts, forgetting all about the drizzle outside the bedroom window until a clap of thunder sounds in the distance. He jumps, not expecting the thunderous roar that rivaled that of a lion’s at the zoo Changmin had once dragged him to. He whimpers behind the blankets, trying to contain his quivering lip by clamping down hard on it with his top row of teeth.
“Junnie, baby, shh,” his best friend coos, running his hand up and down Junsu’s back, soothing circles being drawn with by his thumbs. It calms down the baritenor enough so he will move to the side and allow room for Yoochun. “I’m right here; nothing to fear.”
And Junsu opens his eyes once more, finally looking at the man he can always depend on. Breathing, smiling, beautiful before him. Junsu feels his heart thump faster, almost as if trying to break free from its confines and land in Yoochun’s awaiting hands; he bites his lip to contain the smile that is surely showing in his eyes.
Yoochun’s hair is tousled, unruly black locks sticking up in an odd array of tangles and raindrops. His fair skin is sprinkled with fresh dewdrops that glisten in the dull lamplight that shines over their bodies. Junsu touches his finger to one drop, feeling the cool liquid on his finger before he brings it to his lips almost unconsciously. Yoochun remains silent, just watches, and lets his fingers play at the fraying ends of his quilt out of habit.
Junsu breaks eye contact first, fear and nervousness swelling inside his stomach, and his fists clench as he anxiously awaits what happens next. He draws his attention away to a dark blue umbrella laying open on the floor beside the bed, obviously brought in by Yoochun and recently used.
“Seven years of bad luck,” he murmurs, pointing at the said object of such luck, a large grin spread across his full pink lips.
Yoochun frowns, sulky, and states, “Nuh-uh. I opened outside, I just never shut it.”
“It doesn’t matter, you still have bad luck,” Junsu says as if his word is final, and he knows it will be; Yoochun never argues when they’re alone like this, tangled up within each other’s hearts.
The baritone grins good-naturedly, ruffling his friend’s sleep mussed hairs, and says, “Well, then, as my bestest friend in the whole wide world you must spend the next seven unlucky years by my side.”
“No way. That’s Jae’s job.”
Yoochun pouts; the expression is too cute and too odd for Junsu to resist. So he reaches his fingers up and tugs at the rounded flesh, smooth skin running across his fingertips. They pause, caught up within one another’s gazes once more, and they are not too sure who will pull away first.
Yoochun shifts closer; Junsu doesn’t move away.
The elder runs his index and middle fingers along Junsu’s tanned wrist, tickling the undersides of his arms with the feather-light touches. He shivers at the contact but refuses to pull away, caught up in the intense glaze in Yoochun’s endless chocolate orbs. He wants to lean closer, press their lips together in a fiery kiss that could rattle this whole room, but holds himself back.
“What are you doing, Yoochunnie?”
There’s a pause; Junsu lets out a soft mewl as Yoochun’s fingers press into the bend of his elbow, a sensitive spot on his arm. “I’m trying to see if your veins spell out my name.”
Junsu laughs, ignoring the annoyed grunt that emits from his best friend’s throat. “Do they?” He finds it silly, but Yoochun has never made much sense to Junsu.
Yoochun sighs, turning his watery gaze up to the baritenor. “No.” He slips closer to Junsu, their knees brushing against one another and his breath fanning across the younger’s face. “Do you know what that means.”
“No,” Junsu breathes, completely entranced by the elder’s every movement.
There is a small, sad smile that appears on the older male’s pale full lips. “You won’t bleed for me.” Then he tilts his head downwards, gaze no longer holding Junsu’s. “My veins spell your name; I’d bleed to keep you safe and happy, Junnie.
Junsu’s breath catches in his throat. “You don’t mean that.”
Yoochun laughs heartily, ear-splitting grin on his face but there is still a gloomy haze in his gorgeous eyes. “Yes, of course I mean it, babe. You laugh, I laugh. You cry, I cry -”
“You’ll cry first; you always are the first to cry, Yoochunnie. Just like the Proud performance. Remember?” Junsu giggles as Yoochun gives a groan of protest. He rests his forehead against Yoochun’s collar, tasting salty water on his lips as he breathes against milk white flesh. “What are you going to say next? If I jump off Tokyo Tower, you’ll jump, too.”
“No.”
Junsu glances up, confused and more than a little hurt by what Yoochun is implying with that one negative word. But he sees the look in Yoochun’s eyes; that heartbreakingly beautiful and raw tint that makes his eyes shine brighter than the morning sun.
“I wouldn’t let you jump. Ever.”
These are Yoochun’s final words; he lets their lips crash together just as soon as the lightening streaks across the sky and the thunder clashes once more. But Junsu cannot hear the raging storm through the pounding of his heart ringing in his ears as Yoochun’s lips caress his own. Feathery, butterfly kisses of touches brush against the column of his neck, drawing random designs on peach skin that flushes scarlet at the intimate contact.
When Yoochun pulls away Junsu feels like the air has been forcibly stolen from him. He doesn’t need oxygen to breathe; he needs Yoochun.
“You’re right, Yoochun; I won’t bleed for you,” Junsu mutters as he presses into the other’s warmth, fire burning in the pit of his gut and flaring as he creates friction against the other’s body. Yoochun looks confused and altogether saddened by Junsu’s words, but Junsu continues, hoping to gain a dazzling smile from his best friend, “I don’t want to bleed for you. I want to live for you.”
“I love you,” Yoochun croaks, eyes gathering with tears and Junsu knew he would cry; he always does. But it’s the most amazing thing in the world to see Yoochun like this, at his very weakest and not bothering to hide it away from him. It makes Yoochun that much stronger than any other person Junsu knows. “So much; I love you so very much, Junnie.”
Junsu replies with another kiss and an “I love you” of his own. His heart is paper thin and will rip if it’s dampened by raindrops, but he knows that there is no place safer for his heart to be. Yoochun’s hands provide shelter and security; his heart captures the younger’s and encases it in a loving barrier that will never let it crumble.
Later on Yoochun pulls the dark blue umbrella over their heads, separating them from the world around them, and they disappear into their own world. He tells Junsu stories and sings songs that have no words. Junsu in turn grins and hums along even if they are making up the song as they go on.
And Junsu realizes that he doesn’t mind the rain so much anymore…
… especially when its rhythm matches that of the melodic beatings of Yoochun’s - Junsu’s - heart.