The Symbolism of Smiling into Your Fingertips. - 1/1
The Symbolism of Smiling into Your Fingertips. (yunho/jaejoong)
1 196 words. angst. PG
YunJae is SM's greatest victory. But it gets out of hand and they control it the only way they know how-- by ignoring the fact that they are human beings.
◦This was so spontaneous even I have no idea what happened.
there are teams of girls at the sm office.
who spend all day pretending to be dbsk fangirls. they watch every fancam, stalk every forum, join every fan cafe, and probably know more about dbsk's popularity than they do. they are the ones who leak the singles, who have the backstage pictures, spread the rumours, insert insinuations into fan accounts and act as damage control.
(it doesn't pay very well but they don't complain.)
everything they find goes straight to sm, and they are the ones who craft dbsk's image to fit or surprise the fans, so that they are always the perfect idol group. this is how they know about yunjae and yoosu, why 2u was just a laughable failure, why there are all these little tiny controlled actions that cause the fangirls to scream and die, because they know, they coordinated it.
except.
sometimes jaejoong looks at yunho with a little more than attentiveness
and
sometimes yunho leaves his hands on jaejoong for too long
and
sometimes jaejoong laughs too hard at yunho's jokes
and
sometimes yunho ignores changmin too much
and
sometimes jaejoong doesn't understand the concept of spacing and aesthetics,
and
sometimes yunho forgets about the teams of girls who stalk their every move, and does certain things.
and when sm finds these, they fly into a rage, they can't stop screaming and yelling and punishing, because how dare you do that without our permission, how dare you do that here when we were promoting yoosu, how dare you smile at each other that way. and they apologise, over and over, hoping that the storm will pass and they can go back to secretly honeying at each other under their lips and over their hearts.
one day, sm loses it. they can't even remember what it was, if it was just a slight grasping of his elbow, a smile directed into his neck, a brushing of his arm against his back, but sm slams all the doors and locks all the windows and stands on all the tables until they're big and dark and terrifying.
"are you two gay?" they ask.
"i'm not," yunho says, "i'm not, i'm not. i've had a girlfriend before, remember? you guys made me break her heart, remember?"
"you," they scream, "youngwoong, we want your reply."
jaejoong smiles into his fingertips. "you guys never even let me loose long enough to find a girl, so i don't know. maybe i am, maybe i'm not. you made me so feminine, so would i be straight if i loved a man? would i be gay if i loved a woman? look at my lipglossed lips, my coloured contacts, my make up; i wear more of this shit than my sisters. maybe i'm gay, maybe i'm not. i don't know."
yunho grabs him by the ends of his shirt. "shut up, jaejoong."
"fuck you," he hisses under his breath, pulling away. "fuck you, you don't know anything."
all sm sees are the two of them, holding onto each other and whispering tendered nothings, turn red and slap jaejoong clean across the face.
"yunjae is off the market," they scream, hysterical. "no, no more. this is out of hand, no touching, no laughing, no looking, no anything unless you have our written permission, signed and filed."
"or else what?" jaejoong breathes, so angry, he's got yunho's hand crushed in his. "you'll hit me again? hit yunho again? do you think it still hurts?"
sm laughs, cruel and ringing. "no, how many times has micky been hit? xiah? choikang? how tough do you think their skin is? how long do you think until it cracks?"
jaejoong looks like he's so full of hate he could die, and when yunho lets go of his hand he deflates. instead, he looks so tired, so sick, so surrendered.
"fine," he says. "fine, good job, you win."
sm laughs as they leave, so proud of themselves, while jaejoong can't look anywhere but down and yunho keeps trying to wrap his arms around jaejoong's shoulders but the spike of pain in his side prevents him from doing anything of the sort. it's yoochun who finally gets enough strength to throw the arm over jaejoong's shoulders, place an easy hand on his collar bones and it stays there. yunho can't look at yoochun in the eyes anymore, can't stand the blatant disappointment, and starts clinging to changmin, the ambivalent one. but even then, sometimes, yunho catches that flash of unripe maturity. as deep as the sound. as blue as the veins on jaejoong's neck. as dark as the hollows of jaejoong's cheeks.
yunho's so sorry but he has no one to apologise to but himself.
the small slips of paper, harshly printed in sharp black pen:
"maximum four sentences of yunjae for today's radio show."
"no more than three looks shot across changmin."
"one touch for today's interview."
"two smiles."
jaejoong tears them all up and throws them into the garbage bins, where yunho fishes them out and spends every spare hour taping them back together. he smiles like a leader, talks like a leader, walks like a leader, but he doesn't feel like any one of them wants to be led by trash like him. not when he can't look into the mirror and not hate what he sees staring back.
yunho corners jaejoong one day, just grabs him by the wrist as he's walking past and all the other members pretend they don't see anything and keep walking. he stands so close that jaejoong can feel the height difference, noses bumping against each other and standing chest-to-that-part-on-your-torso-slightly-lower-than-your-chest.
"i," yunho starts, and jaejoong can feel him speak, firstly through the vibrations and secondly through the way his lips move with speech against his own.
jaejoong grins against yunho's mouth. "you're sorry."
yunho trembles. "i am, i am."
"i don't forgive you," jaejoong breathes, "but i'll start paying attention to their notes if that's what you want." and he turns sharply on his heel and leaves, and yunho wants to scream, no, it's not, that's not what i want. it's you, you and your dark glimmering eyes and strangely manly arms and your round pink mouth and your sly over-honest words and you--
but he swallows the words and takes what he gets. because jaejoong always keeps his words, and he knows that the notes won't be stopping any time soon.
and jaejoong keeps his word.
they start to come more frequently after a while, and jaejoong's so paper-accurate that yunho can't find it in him to argue.
at night, yunho presses old boxes of rings to his chest and hopes that the imprints will leave something tangible behind. (you're so far away, please leave me with something that lets me know you still do. even if you don't.)
at night, jaejoong stares wide-eyed at blank white walls and hopes that something will appear, even if his door is locked and barred shut. (maybe you're already inside, maybe you're just hiding and i don't know it. i won't look, come and surprise me.)
and so began the degression of yunjae.
1 196 words. angst. PG
YunJae is SM's greatest victory. But it gets out of hand and they control it the only way they know how-- by ignoring the fact that they are human beings.
◦This was so spontaneous even I have no idea what happened.
there are teams of girls at the sm office.
who spend all day pretending to be dbsk fangirls. they watch every fancam, stalk every forum, join every fan cafe, and probably know more about dbsk's popularity than they do. they are the ones who leak the singles, who have the backstage pictures, spread the rumours, insert insinuations into fan accounts and act as damage control.
(it doesn't pay very well but they don't complain.)
everything they find goes straight to sm, and they are the ones who craft dbsk's image to fit or surprise the fans, so that they are always the perfect idol group. this is how they know about yunjae and yoosu, why 2u was just a laughable failure, why there are all these little tiny controlled actions that cause the fangirls to scream and die, because they know, they coordinated it.
except.
sometimes jaejoong looks at yunho with a little more than attentiveness
and
sometimes yunho leaves his hands on jaejoong for too long
and
sometimes jaejoong laughs too hard at yunho's jokes
and
sometimes yunho ignores changmin too much
and
sometimes jaejoong doesn't understand the concept of spacing and aesthetics,
and
sometimes yunho forgets about the teams of girls who stalk their every move, and does certain things.
and when sm finds these, they fly into a rage, they can't stop screaming and yelling and punishing, because how dare you do that without our permission, how dare you do that here when we were promoting yoosu, how dare you smile at each other that way. and they apologise, over and over, hoping that the storm will pass and they can go back to secretly honeying at each other under their lips and over their hearts.
one day, sm loses it. they can't even remember what it was, if it was just a slight grasping of his elbow, a smile directed into his neck, a brushing of his arm against his back, but sm slams all the doors and locks all the windows and stands on all the tables until they're big and dark and terrifying.
"are you two gay?" they ask.
"i'm not," yunho says, "i'm not, i'm not. i've had a girlfriend before, remember? you guys made me break her heart, remember?"
"you," they scream, "youngwoong, we want your reply."
jaejoong smiles into his fingertips. "you guys never even let me loose long enough to find a girl, so i don't know. maybe i am, maybe i'm not. you made me so feminine, so would i be straight if i loved a man? would i be gay if i loved a woman? look at my lipglossed lips, my coloured contacts, my make up; i wear more of this shit than my sisters. maybe i'm gay, maybe i'm not. i don't know."
yunho grabs him by the ends of his shirt. "shut up, jaejoong."
"fuck you," he hisses under his breath, pulling away. "fuck you, you don't know anything."
all sm sees are the two of them, holding onto each other and whispering tendered nothings, turn red and slap jaejoong clean across the face.
"yunjae is off the market," they scream, hysterical. "no, no more. this is out of hand, no touching, no laughing, no looking, no anything unless you have our written permission, signed and filed."
"or else what?" jaejoong breathes, so angry, he's got yunho's hand crushed in his. "you'll hit me again? hit yunho again? do you think it still hurts?"
sm laughs, cruel and ringing. "no, how many times has micky been hit? xiah? choikang? how tough do you think their skin is? how long do you think until it cracks?"
jaejoong looks like he's so full of hate he could die, and when yunho lets go of his hand he deflates. instead, he looks so tired, so sick, so surrendered.
"fine," he says. "fine, good job, you win."
sm laughs as they leave, so proud of themselves, while jaejoong can't look anywhere but down and yunho keeps trying to wrap his arms around jaejoong's shoulders but the spike of pain in his side prevents him from doing anything of the sort. it's yoochun who finally gets enough strength to throw the arm over jaejoong's shoulders, place an easy hand on his collar bones and it stays there. yunho can't look at yoochun in the eyes anymore, can't stand the blatant disappointment, and starts clinging to changmin, the ambivalent one. but even then, sometimes, yunho catches that flash of unripe maturity. as deep as the sound. as blue as the veins on jaejoong's neck. as dark as the hollows of jaejoong's cheeks.
yunho's so sorry but he has no one to apologise to but himself.
the small slips of paper, harshly printed in sharp black pen:
"maximum four sentences of yunjae for today's radio show."
"no more than three looks shot across changmin."
"one touch for today's interview."
"two smiles."
jaejoong tears them all up and throws them into the garbage bins, where yunho fishes them out and spends every spare hour taping them back together. he smiles like a leader, talks like a leader, walks like a leader, but he doesn't feel like any one of them wants to be led by trash like him. not when he can't look into the mirror and not hate what he sees staring back.
yunho corners jaejoong one day, just grabs him by the wrist as he's walking past and all the other members pretend they don't see anything and keep walking. he stands so close that jaejoong can feel the height difference, noses bumping against each other and standing chest-to-that-part-on-your-torso-slightly-lower-than-your-chest.
"i," yunho starts, and jaejoong can feel him speak, firstly through the vibrations and secondly through the way his lips move with speech against his own.
jaejoong grins against yunho's mouth. "you're sorry."
yunho trembles. "i am, i am."
"i don't forgive you," jaejoong breathes, "but i'll start paying attention to their notes if that's what you want." and he turns sharply on his heel and leaves, and yunho wants to scream, no, it's not, that's not what i want. it's you, you and your dark glimmering eyes and strangely manly arms and your round pink mouth and your sly over-honest words and you--
but he swallows the words and takes what he gets. because jaejoong always keeps his words, and he knows that the notes won't be stopping any time soon.
and jaejoong keeps his word.
they start to come more frequently after a while, and jaejoong's so paper-accurate that yunho can't find it in him to argue.
at night, yunho presses old boxes of rings to his chest and hopes that the imprints will leave something tangible behind. (you're so far away, please leave me with something that lets me know you still do. even if you don't.)
at night, jaejoong stares wide-eyed at blank white walls and hopes that something will appear, even if his door is locked and barred shut. (maybe you're already inside, maybe you're just hiding and i don't know it. i won't look, come and surprise me.)
and so began the degression of yunjae.