μ
wasteland (part i of ii)
12,314; nc-17; au
yoochun/junsu; yunho/jaejoong; yoochun/jaejoong
there is an old, crooked woman who lives three blocks down and around the corner who sells cure-alls and poison. she says her absinthe will spin dreams for the sleepless in all of them, that her deer velvet will make his bones strong, make him hard for weeks.
jaejoong watches the woman walk with her head held high through the aisles of transparent bottles and suspended appendages, spider veins crawling up her pale skin. he tells her that his friend needs something strong and she smiles, her leathery lips recede to reveal black teeth and fleshy, rotting gums. i have just the thing. he tries not to touch her when she hands it to him.
he goes to the supermarket next, loads the cart with crinkly packages of colorful junk food because he knows if he doesn't buy them for yoochun now, he'll be buying them for him in the dead of night. jaejoong had told yoochun's boss, he's been sick for a couple days now, i think he's got strep or something.
jaejoong finds yoochun on the futon, ashtray on his chest, smoking and counting the cracks in the ceiling. yah, i got your medicine.
he turns to jaejoong and looks at the bags in his hand. you went to that crackpot hag didn't you? look, her stuff always works. i'm changing my will before i die and you're gonna get jack shit. yeah, i'm just dying to inherit the lint from your bellybutton.
jaejoong kneels in front of him, takes the bottle out of the cloth bag, and pulls some of the yellow liquid into the dropper.
open your mouth.
yoochun puts out his cigarette, gets up and sticks out his tongue. jaejoong carefully measures out three drops onto the tip of his tongue. okay, swallow.
yoochun's face crumples in disgust.
he's back to work by the next day, working the register. he scans bread and soda and deli meats and eggs and wonders if she sells anything for misspent youth.
✤
there's about a year of jaejoong's life he barely remembers, right after he turned nineteen. that year he spent blind drunk and away from home as much as possible.
the thing with eunji shouldn't remind jaejoong so much of the taste of bleach and his mother and stomach knots. eunji left when jaejoong had promised forever because he decided to conveniently forget how long forever really was. he was willing to go too far and she had let him. diploma in hand, she told him that she was leaving during the summer, studying abroad. it's the best choice for me, she had said. you couldn't have told me earlier? jaejoong's teeth ground together, and what he really wanted to say was that he didn't know what there was of him without her.
she still keeps in touch, calls him every month even though the conversations have gotten shorter and the pauses longer. he sometimes wishes that she would just stop all together, because he hates having to laugh at her stupid jokes and her ways of skirting the question when he quietly asks if she's seeing anyone.
yoochun tells him it's not being abandoned, and jaejoong screams that's exactly what it fucking is.
✤
every sunday afternoon, they go to the small plot of land behind the apartment buildings.
when jaejoong had first asked about it, no one else seemed to give a fuck and the landlord didn't even know it was there so jaejoong christened it as his own, both of them putting on clothes from the back of their closets, yoochun in a pair of overalls that jaejoong had shoved into his hands when he told him he didn't want to go.
jaejoong puts yoochun in charge of the rusted rake he found leaning against the fence and tells him to start over there, by the oak, while he's going to start pulling weeds from that side. they spend four hours that day clearing the ground, slow and methodical. yoochun occasionally glances over to watch jaejoong kneeling on the ground, dirt smeared on his face. they finally meet in the middle, the sky orange and purple from twilight, collapse on the grass side by side.
i've got some ditchweed. do you wanna?
hell yeah.
yoochun tears off a corner off a newspaper sticking out of the trash bag, starts rolling up, brow furled in concentration. jaejoong watches him with his head tilted to the side. pack it tighter, he says. just let me fucking do it, yoochun replies, slides his tongue down the edge, seals the joint with his spit, lights it with the zippo jaejoong got him for his last birthday.
he takes the first hit, inhales and holds...exhales.
this is like. like the shit that grows on the side of the road.
whatever, gimme.
jaejoong takes it carefully, the newspaper already creased from yoochun's fingers. hits it once, twice, gives it back.
you better not have paid more than 2 bucks for an eighth of this
nah, i got it for free
oh right your dealer totally wants your dick
please, you're the one he keeps asking for. where's your friend? oh, what was your friend's name again, jaebom? jaejoong?
maybe if i fuck him we'll get a discount!
they start giggling, turning into each other. seriously though, how messed up would that be. yoochun looks at the joint, squints his eyes, and reads the newspaper print.
some woman got her head stuck in her car window for 12 hours
no way
human interest stories are so fucked up nowadays
yoochun wiggles closer to jaejoong, wanna shotgun?
any excuse to get near these lips, huh
i never need an excuse, yoochun grins, sucks in, moves centimeters away from jaejoong's pursed lips, streams the smoke into his mouth
he watches as jaejoong inhales, says
you're magnificent.
jaejoong rolls his eyes, blows the recycled high through the side of his mouth
that's your shitty weed talking.
yoochun leans over and kisses him, his lips sweet and dry
what was that for?
just 'cause.
✤
um, your coupon is expired ma'am.
yoochun looks up from the carefully clipped piece of paper and hands it back to the woman, looks at the lone can of tomato soup and shakes his head sympathetically. the woman looks like she's just been slapped. young man, that coupon is not expired. he asks to see the coupon again and yes, it's expired, three months exactly. it's a fucking twenty nine cent discount, he thinks, and you're buying a two dollar can of soup.
just scan the barcode, you'll see.
ma'am. it won't go through, i promise you.
let me see your supervisor.
ma'am i rea-
um, excuse me?
both of them turn their heads to the boy next in line, a carton of milk and cereal in his hands, smiling. i can buy the soup for you ma'am, he says. the woman smiles and looks back at yoochun as if to say, now here's a nice, good polite boy. learn something from him. the boy pays for the items, and the woman even offers to pay him back the amount it would've been without the coupon. what the fuck, yoochun thinks. but he just shakes his head, says there's no need, just glad to be able to help.
when the woman is out of earshot, he smiles at yoochun as he bags his own groceries. my grandma is totally like that. she gets her kicks from being a total ballbuster.
yoochun can't help but smile back and even turns his head slightly to watch him walk through the automatic doors.
he comes back two days later. yoochun doesn't even notice him until he sees a pack of watermelon gum sliding towards him. that's it? yoochun wonders aloud before he looks up. it's the boy again, and he ducks his head, blushing a little.
yoochun scans the gum.
you could've gone to the express lane.
i know.
yoochun knows that there are customers behind him, but he doesn't really want to hurry up. he tries to think of something to say that's not incredibly idiotic like if he wants a bag, because you don't need a bag for a pack of gum, and he's already slipped it into his pocket. they sort of look at each other for a couple for seconds and the woman behind him clucks her tongue in impatience.
so, uh.
okay. bye.
the next day, yoochun sees him waiting in line, three people back. he works a little faster with those three people, tries to finish up with them before someone gets behind him.
hi.
hi.
yoochun looks down and sees that he has nothing to check out.
✤
yoochun finds out he's a trust fund kid not because he particularly looks or acts the part, but when they take the bus to his house (yoochun had immediately nodded yes to the offer, mentally kicked himself for seeming so eager to go home with a stranger), they get off in a neighborhood yoochun's only really heard of. they walk a couple of blocks, lawns with careful and painstaking landscaping lining their path, before they stop in front of a mansion. just as yoochun starts to think he just got roped into a breaking and entering expedition, junsu (they finally made their introductions sitting side by side all the way in the back of the bus) takes out a key from his back pocket.
"you live here?" yoochun exclaims.
"uh-huh."
as he steps in, yoochun is momentarily blinded by a chandelier the size of a small aircraft.
"yah, junho!" junsu yells. "let me borrow your car?"
"no!" comes a voice from upstairs.
"come on! i have a friend with me!"
"is it a girl? because it's about time you got some act-"
"shut up, asshole!" yoochun notices the blush creeping up junsu's neck.
a pause, and the voice from upstairs shouts back. "ok, fine. bring it back before 10 and i want it exactly as i left it!"
"thanks!" junsu grins and fishes out the car keys from a bowl, takes yoochun's arm and whispers conspiratorially. "let's go."
✤
so you write songs
when i'm not stocking the weekly special, yeah
what do you write about
people, places, things. people mostly
lemme hear something
it's stupid, no
c'mon
seriously, no
you can't just tell me and-
maybe later.
yoochun's leans his head back against the seat, looks hazily out the window and it's a few minutes of silence until junsu leans over and kisses him on the corner of the mouth.
he's fairly sure in the split second junsu's mouth is on his he feels the slide of his tongue. it's weird, mostly because yoochun knows he sort of just got kissed. he looks over at junsu, slid all the way to the other side of the seat, looking back at him with his eyes half-closed and smiling.
yoochun shivers a little on the inside and it takes his brain a second of catching up before he's thinking he really likes the feeling, and it honestly doesn't matter that he wasn't expecting it. and if he's being really honest, he kind of prefers it that way. right now, it's really only a question of the upholstery between them.
he scoots over and dips his head and presses his mouth against junsu's all in one movement. junsu makes some deep, appreciative noise that makes yoochun feel brave, and he puts a hand on junsu's throat and opens his mouth. junsu's hair is soft and spiky, the color of faded autumn leaves and yoochun wonders how bright it'd been when he first dyed it, slides his hand across the back of junsu's head. junsu sits up, presses forward, pushes yoochun back across the seat and lays over him, kisses him again.
it's not the first time yoochun's been jerked off by someone else, but it's still awkward and a little embarrassing but really good too. junsu has strong hands and smells of something familiar. yoochun's foot gets wedged under the front seat and he doesn't know what to do with his other leg, junsu pushing it open and against the back of the seat so he can fit more in yoochun's lap.
the door handle is digging into the back of his head, and there's one awful moment where junsu tries to bend back over to kiss him, shifts and kneels the wrong way on the plastic part of the seat belt sticking up between the seats, and almost loses his balance and knees yoochun's crotch but then they finally get situated, and yoochun pulls junsu back down on top of him and they both work to get their jeans off at the same time. the back seat is small, so they only manage to get their jeans and underwear pushed down around their knees, but it's enough. junsu moves and gets lined up right with yoochun, puts his hand slicked with spit between them, and yoochun bites his lip and tries to grab onto the window or the back dash or something and push up because, god.
later, yoochun lays on his back across the seat, junsu laying on the floorspace between the front and back seats. he's got his hand threaded through junsu's hair, junsu rubbing up and down his forearm. they're both looking out the window, watching the headlights come and go, the soft crunch of tires turning and going home.
yoochun's fingers try to smooth over the wrinkles in his pants from being bunched up for too long.
junsu squeezes his wrist and says, you don't have to be so sad all the time, you know.
✤
junsu offers to drive him back to his place, but yoochun refuses. he lies and says that he lives close by, that he'll get there by himself. junsu just smiles, adjusts his t-shirt. the car smells hot and sticky, like boys and sex and greasy fast food. isn't your brother going to notice, yoochun asks. junsu reaches over and pops open the glove compartment, takes out air freshener and leather cleaner, along with a fabric cloth.
he's so anal about this car, junsu chuckles.
and we just had sort of sex in it, yoochun thinks. he kind of really likes this boy.
they work together to clean the seats, wiping off dried sweat from the back, throwing out the empty cartons and soda cups, opening all the car doors to let the car air out. yoochun gets a little too enthusiastic with the pine-scented air freshener and doesn't realize that the nozzle is pointed towards him, chokes on the spray in his mouth and nose.
junsu bursts out laughing, his entire body shaking against the hood of the car. yoochun spits, trying to get the foul taste out of his mouth.
you're cute, junsu says.
that's not really an adjective i would use to describe myself, yoochun sniffles. he feels a little patronized but mostly disconcerted that his debonair act had failed to translate.
as a button, junsu giggles. yoochun rubs his nose furiously, tries to hide the smile underneath his hand.
they say their goodbyes. yoochun wants to kiss him but decides against it, probably too much too soon, he'll think i'm a loser, and instead settles for a manly one-armed hug.
he turns and starts to walk away. hears someone jog up behind him and slip his hand into his pocket. yoochun whips around and sees junsu with his cellphone, pressing buttons. junsu concentrates hard for a minute, flips the phone closed with a victorious flourish. hands it back to him and
"as much as i like stalking the supermarket and pretending to buy groceries, calling might be easier." junsu jogs back to the car and turns on the ignition.
once he's gotten on the bus, yoochun looks for junsu's name in his contacts. he can't find him under j or k, and his heart drops a little. upon closer inspection though, he sees a new entry titled 'my new favoritest person ever <3'.
when he gets home, jaejoong tells him to stop grinning like an idiot because it's scary, what the hell is wrong with him.
✤
they both have the opening shift. changmin is the one to adjust the mannequins and open the register and always has a cup of extra coffee for jaejoong even when he comes in an hour late every day like clockwork, bleary-eyed and unapologetic. i'm going to tell the manager one of these days, changmin had threatened. go ahead, jaejoong retorted. who do you think gets all the business around here? changmin never told the manager, but he made sure to make a point of extending his lunch break by exactly the amount of time jaejoong had been late that particular day. it would figure that the lunch hour was when most of their customers came in, vice presidents and pencil-pushers alike. changmin would chew leisurely on a sandwich while jaejoong stumbled over himself catering to all the customers, gave him the finger when no one was looking.
when he walks in, both of them were playing a joint game of minesweeper on the computer, changmin leaning over jaejoong's shoulder, pointing at the screen with the air of a captain manning a ship. jaejoong pointedly ignores his suggestions. the automated entrance bell goes off.
jaejoong looks up and locks eyes with a man in a pinstriped suit, a leather messenger bag slung across his shoulders, his hand hooked through the strap. definitely not a regular. jaejoong shoves changmin out of the way, clears his throat.
"hi. how can i help you today?"
the man scratches the back of his head, smiles shyly. jaejoong follows the pinstripes of his suit down broad shoulders, the tapering into a toned stomach, down long legs. he's wearing a solid cornflower blue silk tie knotted in a half windsor, neatly tucked into a two-button jacket. a pair of custom engraved silver cufflinks catches jaejoong's eye.
"i'm not really sure." he looks around at the racks. "i'm going to this...event. and i need a shirt."
jaejoong wonders why he seems so clueless, especially when he's so impeccably dressed.
"do you know what kind of suit you're going to wear?"
"uh. probably my black one. double-breasted." he smiles helplessly at jaejoong.
"one second," and jaejoong heads over to one of the prêt-a-porter racks, locates a lilac dress shirt, picks out a white and cream striped tie. he hands it to him and grins. "this color combination should look nice."
the man seems overjoyed by his choice, that the whole thing was so quick and painless. "i guess i'll try this on."
jaejoong points him in the direction of the dressing room. as the man goes inside to try the shirt on, jaejoong returns to changmin's side.
"do you want a tissue?" changmin asks.
"for what?"
"for the drool coming out of your mouth."
"shut up."
the wooden door swings open, and the man looks gorgeous and refined, just as jaejoong expected. "how does it look?"
both changmin and jaejoong nod. he smiles in relief. "i guess i'll take it then." he goes back into the dressing room.
he pays with cash, much to jaejoong's dismay. if he'd paid with his credit card, he thinks, i'd at least be able to know his name. he thanks jaejoong again with a slight bow of his head.
when he's about to close up, jaejoong notices the glint of a silver cufflink on the dressing room floor.
✤
when junsu invites him over for an all-night movie marathon, yoochun figures that junsu is the type for the typical action-y lots of cars scantily-clad fare. yoochun's also pretty sure that he can get in some good old high-school style sucking face, a couch and dark room providing the perfect setting.
what he gets instead are the likes of lucio fulci and takashi miike.
this scene is so awesome, junsu gushes as another type of gushing takes place on screen.
yoochun tries not to act like an adolescent schoolgirl and stares at a spot on the wall above the television, tries not to flinch when he catches an eyeful of a man being cut in half by an electric saw. he furtively casts a glance at junsu, leaning forward in his seat, eyes wide and attentive. what a freaking sicko, yoochun thinks.
junsu pauses the dvd, turns to yoochun and smiles like he wasn't just enraptured by a decapitated human head rolling across the floor.
"do you want popcorn? something to drink?"
if i eat anything it's probably just going to come back up again, yoochun resists from saying. he shakes his head.
junsu bounces off to the kitchen and yoochun looks at the television screen, the frame of the man's face is distorted in anguish, and yoochun jumps a good foot off the couch when hears the kernels popping in the microwave.
god when did i become such a pussy, he mumbles to himself, rubs his hand behind his ear.
"did you say something?" junsu comes back, his right hand balancing a bowl of popcorn and a bag of chips and his left hand holding a six pack of?
"i got you beer, since i guess you drink."
"heavily." yoochun says in relief, making grabbing motions. junsu rolls his eyes and hands over the entire pack, settles on the couch indian-style, bowl of popcorn in between his legs. junsu's about to hit play when yoochun goes
"wait, you're not having any?"
"nope."
yoochun's not about to let this night go entirely to waste. he gets closer to junsu and shakes a can enticingly at him. come on, you have to okay? junsu looks at him like he knows exactly what yoochun's doing, takes the can from him, pops it open and takes a gulp. yoochun smiles and turns his gaze to the television, phase one complete.
by the time some yakuza boss pours boiling water over a man hanging by hooks from the ceiling, yoochun is on his seventh beer, having wobbled to the kitchen for refills. he's pretty much been through the play book, having sidled up to junsu, put his head on his shoulder, a not so casual hand on the thigh but yoochun's received not an inkling of a reaction besides a platonic, distracted head pat. yoochun starts shaking his leg, and exasperated, finally lets out
"how the fuck do you watch this stuff?"
"i was wondering when you'd crack." junsu chuckles, amusement in his voice.
"wait, you knew?"
"yeah, right around when you started gagging during city of the living dead."
"oh thank god." yoochun slurs and looks pleadingly at junsu, hoping that the 4 beers he'd force fed him would make him more pliable. "now can we watch pretty woman or you've got mail or titanic or-"
"-or you could gag on something else." junsu smiles around a mouthful of popcorn.
yoochun stares at the side of junsu's face, waits for him to burst out laughing but he's still smiling and chewing, the reflection of the television flickering in his eyes, so maybe yoochun did hear him correctly and he has to shift on the couch because everything suddenly got warmer, and then he remembers the car and the sticky seats and the way junsu's eyelids fluttered when he-
junsu licks his lips, turns off the television.
"upstairs?"
"whatta 'bout junho? your parents?"
"not home."
"so you planned this whole-"
"yeah."
it dawns on him. "waitsowaitWAIT you actually got me drunk instead of me getting you drunk?" yoochun flaps his hands around as if trying to manually flow chart the trajectory of his logic.
junsu picks up a few stray kernels of popcorn off the floor, turns to face yoochun. "yeah, how else would i get to top?" he smiles, canary struggling behind his teeth.
"whatha fuck 're you talking about." yoochun fakes indignation but it's mostly to save face but really it's just yes yes yes who is this person, what is he doing and why isn't he touching me yet because he can't remember the last time he's been so turned on and he never really knew that being the one taken advantage of was so fucking hot and goddammit he was definitely going to be a consenting party to whatever was going to happen.
he smiles just as wide and tries to come up with a clever comeback.
"so dismemberment gets your rocks off wow you're a sick fuck you know that kim junsu who'da ever thunk it mister smiley rainbow pants."
junsu laughs his laugh, leans over and goes
"it was mostly just you squirming in your seat."
he kisses him then, the salty sweet of the popcorn against the spicy malt of hops and yoochun can feel himself bleeding into the feeling like all those poor victims in the past three hours, wants to be shoved against something hard, finds himself desperately needing something that he never even knew he wanted and it hits him like a blow to the solar plexus.
the stairs are too long and too high, but they finally manage to get up to the second floor. junsu's room is just a little bit darker and blurrier than he'd imagined it. he can see posters of various athletes plastered on the wall, another television next to a large desk and the windows are ceiling to floor, accented with velvet maroon curtains. junsu catches yoochun looking and explains, my mother and the interior decorator forced me okay. the bed is a four poster, and the most intimidating thing yoochun has ever seen. he's barely makes it inside the room and seriously considers hauling ass all the way home.
junsu watches yoochun in the darkness.
"you're just a sheep in wolf's disguise, aren't you?"
"i don't know why i'm acting this way around you, this isn't me. i'm usually. i'm usually...not this." yoochun whispers.
"c'mere."
he walks shakily over to the bed, overwhelmed with want and the prospect of needing this so much that it hurt like a drunken pounding underneath his skin.
they don't kiss so much as gasp, open and wet into each other's mouths.
junsu presses fingers to the back of yoochun's neck, makes a strangled mumbled request and yoochun doesn't even hear the words before he's working his way down junsu's neck, chest, hipbones. he looks up for affirmation because he wants junsu to know that he's never done this before, he's sorry if there's too much teeth or if he gags or if he can't take it all but he want him to know that he wants this, wants him to know that he'll try. his preemptive apology is met by a brush of knuckles against his cheek, junsu's legs falling open. please.
yoochun takes head of junsu's cock into his mouth, using all the spit he has in his mouth and starts to suck, tries to remember the techniques that girls have used on him, pushes his mouth lower and hums around him. it's different, but a good kind of different and he wants junsu to feel good, and encouraged by the noises he's making, yoochun takes him until he hits the back of his throat, pulls him back out again and repeats the motion.
look at me, junsu says. yoochun does, and if it were even possible, gets even harder at the red-slick of junsu's bottom lip and in his eyes, something strung-out and drugged, wet and gorgeous.
i've never done this before, junsu chokes out, i've never done this before, with a girl even. i don't know what this is either. you. wh- when i saw you, i, i thought i'd seen you before and i just, i needed to talk to you, like if i didn't, i'd be losing something important
his eyes never leave yoochun's and yoochun melts in his gaze, heartbeat arrhythmic and stilted by the confusion in junsu's voice, terrified by the fact of not knowing what they both were doing and still doing it anyways. he moves back up to the pillow, kisses junsu and tries to comfort him but if junsu wasn't sure, how could he be? maybe if he. maybe.
do you, yoochun swallows, do you want to fuck me? junsu's eyes widen, and he looks down. after a few seconds, he looks back up. i- i do, he says honestly, a twinge of guilt coloring his words. but i don't want to hurt you. you won't hurt me, yoochun answers, never more sure of anything in his life. okay, junsu says, his breath warm against yoochun's lips. what do i do? i don't know, yoochun thinks, i have no fucking idea. but he injects some confidence in his voice, says what he does know, asks if junsu has anything like lotion, something. yeah, he does, reaches underneath his bed.
junsu twists off the cap, squeezes out some into the center of his palm. do i? or do you? you, yoochun says. you do it. okay, lay back. yoochun does, watches the way junsu uses his other hand to slick his fingers, eyes half-lidded. wait, yoochun whispers. junsu looks up, you don't want this, do you? i'll stop. no no no, yoochun shakes his head, catches junsu's elbow. he doesn't know if he can handle any more of this excruciating slow build, threatening to rip him apart at the very seams. do-don't use your fingers. just go.
it's nothing like burning or tearing or anything he's imagined it to be, the pain dull and distant at the very least. junsu goes slow at first, but he picks up his pace once he sees that yoochun isn't being hurt, far from it, head to the side, mouth hanging slightly open, hands fisted in the sheets.
yoochun's gut clenches around the feeling, holds onto it tight until it's too much and he's burning with it. he's scared of this kind of out of control and still wants it so much that he can feel it crackling electric fire underneath his skin.
both of them come quick and desperate, as if they can't keep up with the momentum, everything going too fast, nothing to keep them from crashing.
✤
the windows of the store are muted with the white static of snow and the occasional overcast shadow of someone trudging their way across the sidewalk. with not even one customer through the doors in over 4 hours, changmin proposes that they have lunch together, seeing as no one in their right mind would come to get their suit fitted in this type of weather. jaejoong reaches for the binder of takeout menus changmin's compiled over the months underneath the desk. they decide on some greasy chinese place that delivers for free, and changmin orders from the lunch special menu. jaejoong tips the delivery boy extra when he hands over the food, tells him to be safe driving back.
jaejoong takes the bags from him and looks inside.
"there are eight pairs of chopsticks in here."
"yeah, yeah. growing boy, gotta get my nutrients, etcetera. chinese food always tastes better a day later anyways." changmin pushes the tabs out of the styrofoam containers, twists his chopsticks into the noodles and brings it up to his mouth.
jaejoong reaches into the paper bag and takes out a fortune cookie, tears off the plastic with his teeth, cracks it open and reads aloud.
"happiness is only an arm's length away."
jaejoong stretches his arm, brushes changmin's hand with his fingertips. they contemplate each other for a few seconds before jaejoong bursts out in laughter, chortling something about unfortunate fortunes.
changmin looks down, shovels in another mouthful. "it's happiness is only an arm's length away...in bed."
"har har very funny. that was just a trial run, this one really counts." jaejoong pulls out another cookie. changmin opens another container.
"okay. this one. this one says: 'for true love, you need not look very far.'" jaejoong looks up, catches changmin's eye. changmin sighs, and replies
"...in bed."
"okay, that one doesn't count either."
"just eat, hyung."
"okay."
✤
fee fi fo fum, yoochun greets jaejoong as he sees him coming down the beanstalk. i thought for sure you were a goner.
jaejoong shrugs.
i guess i didn't have enough meat on my bones.
you get it?
jaejoong tosses the gram to yoochun.
they both go one for one, have different ways of knowing when it's kicking in, it's the snow lights for jaejoong, the bittersweet ooze of the drip against the back of his throat for yoochun. it's kind of stupid that they do it at home alone, but they do and they become kings of their tiny apartment, dancing, crazed to the cds that both of them sometimes choose to buy over groceries, shouting and singing out of their window, stir crazy but not really wanting to go out. jaejoong bites the skin on top of yoochun's hand, his bottom lip, earlobe and it's this weird buzzing softness because they can't feel their teeth tongues mouths, ow fuck ow yoochun yelps when jaejoong bites too hard, giggles in response, matches his bite with another one on jaejoong's chest, damp with sweat.
yoochun always gets the itch about twenty minutes in, the crawling inching along the gooseflesh of his arms and shoulder blades into his scalp.
yoochun gets a splinter stuck in the pad of his ring finger checking the apartment for termites like something possessed, knocking on walls and the wooden floors, listening for that dreaded hollow echo back, fuck, he mumbles to jaejoong, how the fuck're we gonna get an exterminator when we barely have enough money for food? fuck termites, jaejoong shouts above the music, fuck them fuck them fuck 'em, we'll step on every one those fuckers better ante up 'cause we're step on their babies and their babies' babies until they're all dead and then we won't have any more.
yoochun accepts his plan of action and busies himself examining the barely there fleck of wood embedded in his skin, wonders if he can take it out with his teeth. he tries a few times, goes cross-eyed trying to pinpoint the exact spot. he brings his finger over to jaejoong, whines, take it out, it hurts, take it out. but jaejoong's danceshaking to the music, nips the wrong finger instead, gets close to breaking skin. yoochun pulls his finger away and sucks it into his mouth with a muffled fuck you, skips to the next song and joins jaejoong on the futon.
✤
so let's say hypothetically, jaejoong starts, attempts to look occupied adjusting a mannequin.
a real hypothetical or the fake kind where it's actually happening to you but you're too embarrassed to admit it kind of hypothetical, changmin answers, not bothering looking up from the lingerie catalogue mailed to the store every month.
requested information is irrelevant. so let's say i meet what could be my prince charming-
-pinstripe man from last week, you mean.
yes, okay, pinstripes. let's say i want to meet him again, but i don't know his name, where he lives or any other fundamental details necessary for tracking him down. the only thing i have is this. jaejoong takes the cufflink out of his pocket and displays it proudly underneath changmin's nose. changmin picks it up and inspects it underneath the light.
well, you know his initials at least.
initials will get me nowhere.
changmin closes the magazine and looks thoughtfully at jaejoong. you know what you have to do, right?
no, i don't. that's why i'm asking you.
okay. since you're treating this like some sort of urban fairy tale where the man of your dreams is going to whisk you away into the smog-filled sunset, you're going to have to get into the fairy tale frame of mind.
the fuck?
you asked me for advice, so shut up and listen. what we have here is a classic cinderella and the glass slipper scenario. you see this guy once and you're smitten. all you have of his is this cufflink.
right. and?
so. it's time for you to gussy up and pick him up in your pumpkin carriage and have a ball!
jaejoong throws a nearby pen at him. fuck you, i thought you were really going to help me.
changmin heaves a loud, beleaguered sigh and pulls out the logbook underneath the cash register and flips to a page near the end. he passes an ivory business card to jaejoong.
here. he came in earlier this week when you weren't working. he wanted some tailoring done, and he gave me his card to call when it was finished.
jaejoong studies the name, runs his fingers along the embossed edges. he looks back up at changmin.
changmin. you know what this means, don't you.
what.
you're my fairy godmothe-OW.
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