(no subject)
TITLE: Dull: Parts 1-4 of 5
GENRE: Angsty-angst-ness
PAIRINGS: kind of a surprise, OT5-ish
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: 5 minus 1 (i.e. character death)
Music has always been a part of Yoochun.
It's a fact.
When he composes, the notes spill out of his heart, and ever since he met him he would invariably bleed those notes for him, motivated by the sounds that passed those lips.
Yoochun could live to bring the melodic perfection forth from that voice. He could live just to hear it.
But now, the music is gone. the notes, the laughter, the charm of his speech; he's taken it all with him. That voice, that unique pitch and timbre, will never ring out in DBSK's close apartment again.
Now, when he composes, the notes won't come; they've moved beyond the reach of his heart and no matter how the others try to sing the parts for him, nothing sounds right,
Without him, he's deaf and so utterly lost that he almost doubts he'll find another way because, dammit, he doesn't want to move from this one.
~*~
Jaejoong cooks a lot these days, mostly desserts and all of his favorite foods. The main vocalist only wishes that he cooked these things more when they still had the time.
He finishes the dish he's working on and loathes to taste it because it reminds him too much of him, but he takes a bite anyways because he's desperate to get closer to the sweet kisses that they shared and a multitude of other tastes that seemed to make the world.
Jaejoong almost throws the dish right then because he can't taste it, can't taste him. Still, tears starting to pick their way around his features, he eats some more, visions of concerned frowns and lips forming the words "you need to eat more Joongie-ah..." make him forge on.
Funny, Jaejoong thinks with a bitter smile, how he once thought he disliked his favorite dish so much, and now he can't get enough of it. Sighing, the main vocalist packs up the leftovers and moves to the fridge where the remnants of other dishes that hold no flavor wait for the missing housemate that will never enjoy them again.
~*~
Changmin clutches a costume from "Balloons" tight in his arms, nestling himself among all the rest of the costumes in his closet, breathing in the fading scents. He tries not to breathe too much, tries not to take in the large hiccup of air that his lungs need becaue the aching might distract him from the fact that he can't find his scent anymore.
No matter what he does to try to attain it- from using his shampoo to hunkering down in the closet, much like now, and trying to catch the invisible marks that he left behind- the scent is hard to chase.
Feeling despair and desperation creep upon him, Changmin buries himself farther into the curtains of cloth and upsets a bottle of scented bubble bath, its contents claiming the floorboards languidly.
A wild gasp tears from his throat.
The once pungent liquid holds no scent; it can't reawaken the memories, can't revive him for the slightest instant. All at once Changmin feels foolish, hiding in a closet with a viscous puddle of bubble bath pooling next to him; not because of the situation, no, but because he's supposed to be the smart one, and, if he's so smart, shouldn't he know that he's gone and that's that?
~*~
Yunho's eyes are closed as he dances, shoes occasionally squeaking against the small dance room floor. His breath is frantic and ragged as he turns and spins and tries to outrun the ghostly memories of just touching that threaten to drive him mad.
Every breath leaves him craving for his touch, the cold absence of the younger man's body in his arms too real to ignore.
Yunho wants to forget that he won't some bursting through the door to press up against him, that he won't be able to take his hand or the small of his back and guide him through the fans and paparazzi anymore.
The leader tries to forget that he won't wake up tangled in the other's limbs, that he won't have those soft lips to kiss of a forehead to lean his own against when no one's looking.
Yunho needs to forget the texture of his skin, flush against his body, the feel of dyed hair that was always unusually undamaged, the flutter of eyelashes on his skin, and the heady pressure of warm breath that could make his legs fail, unable to feel properly for hours.
And now, just like before, he can't feel properly, but this time it's because he isn't close enough and Yunho can't get over the fact that no amount of dancing and hard work will change this of make it untrue.
Yunho trips, back meeting the resistant wood floor with the resounding thud of reality and the pain in his soul catches up with him, overwhelming any physical hurts. And even though his limbs are little more than flesh and bone at this point, and his lungs and throat are raw, and his head and back are throbbing red-hot, Yunho can't feel any of it.
He lost all feeling the moment he lost his touch.
( ')< *chu* >(' )
That's it for now, but it do have a fifth and final part that I will post by Monday :: very optimistic::.
Gosh, I should just get somebody to type for me. The story dissolves before my eyes when I do it. Myeeeeeeeeh....... KISSING DUCKS!
Please comment?
GENRE: Angsty-angst-ness
PAIRINGS: kind of a surprise, OT5-ish
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: 5 minus 1 (i.e. character death)
Music has always been a part of Yoochun.
It's a fact.
When he composes, the notes spill out of his heart, and ever since he met him he would invariably bleed those notes for him, motivated by the sounds that passed those lips.
Yoochun could live to bring the melodic perfection forth from that voice. He could live just to hear it.
But now, the music is gone. the notes, the laughter, the charm of his speech; he's taken it all with him. That voice, that unique pitch and timbre, will never ring out in DBSK's close apartment again.
Now, when he composes, the notes won't come; they've moved beyond the reach of his heart and no matter how the others try to sing the parts for him, nothing sounds right,
Without him, he's deaf and so utterly lost that he almost doubts he'll find another way because, dammit, he doesn't want to move from this one.
~*~
Jaejoong cooks a lot these days, mostly desserts and all of his favorite foods. The main vocalist only wishes that he cooked these things more when they still had the time.
He finishes the dish he's working on and loathes to taste it because it reminds him too much of him, but he takes a bite anyways because he's desperate to get closer to the sweet kisses that they shared and a multitude of other tastes that seemed to make the world.
Jaejoong almost throws the dish right then because he can't taste it, can't taste him. Still, tears starting to pick their way around his features, he eats some more, visions of concerned frowns and lips forming the words "you need to eat more Joongie-ah..." make him forge on.
Funny, Jaejoong thinks with a bitter smile, how he once thought he disliked his favorite dish so much, and now he can't get enough of it. Sighing, the main vocalist packs up the leftovers and moves to the fridge where the remnants of other dishes that hold no flavor wait for the missing housemate that will never enjoy them again.
~*~
Changmin clutches a costume from "Balloons" tight in his arms, nestling himself among all the rest of the costumes in his closet, breathing in the fading scents. He tries not to breathe too much, tries not to take in the large hiccup of air that his lungs need becaue the aching might distract him from the fact that he can't find his scent anymore.
No matter what he does to try to attain it- from using his shampoo to hunkering down in the closet, much like now, and trying to catch the invisible marks that he left behind- the scent is hard to chase.
Feeling despair and desperation creep upon him, Changmin buries himself farther into the curtains of cloth and upsets a bottle of scented bubble bath, its contents claiming the floorboards languidly.
A wild gasp tears from his throat.
The once pungent liquid holds no scent; it can't reawaken the memories, can't revive him for the slightest instant. All at once Changmin feels foolish, hiding in a closet with a viscous puddle of bubble bath pooling next to him; not because of the situation, no, but because he's supposed to be the smart one, and, if he's so smart, shouldn't he know that he's gone and that's that?
~*~
Yunho's eyes are closed as he dances, shoes occasionally squeaking against the small dance room floor. His breath is frantic and ragged as he turns and spins and tries to outrun the ghostly memories of just touching that threaten to drive him mad.
Every breath leaves him craving for his touch, the cold absence of the younger man's body in his arms too real to ignore.
Yunho wants to forget that he won't some bursting through the door to press up against him, that he won't be able to take his hand or the small of his back and guide him through the fans and paparazzi anymore.
The leader tries to forget that he won't wake up tangled in the other's limbs, that he won't have those soft lips to kiss of a forehead to lean his own against when no one's looking.
Yunho needs to forget the texture of his skin, flush against his body, the feel of dyed hair that was always unusually undamaged, the flutter of eyelashes on his skin, and the heady pressure of warm breath that could make his legs fail, unable to feel properly for hours.
And now, just like before, he can't feel properly, but this time it's because he isn't close enough and Yunho can't get over the fact that no amount of dancing and hard work will change this of make it untrue.
Yunho trips, back meeting the resistant wood floor with the resounding thud of reality and the pain in his soul catches up with him, overwhelming any physical hurts. And even though his limbs are little more than flesh and bone at this point, and his lungs and throat are raw, and his head and back are throbbing red-hot, Yunho can't feel any of it.
He lost all feeling the moment he lost his touch.
( ')< *chu* >(' )
That's it for now, but it do have a fifth and final part that I will post by Monday :: very optimistic::.
Gosh, I should just get somebody to type for me. The story dissolves before my eyes when I do it. Myeeeeeeeeh....... KISSING DUCKS!
Please comment?