Possibilites
Possibilites (PG)
Jaejoong/Junsu
1133 words
you spend your sunday afternoon falling in love.
possibilities
These are the ways it could have gone:
(a)
At five, summer time spells of ice cream and sandcastle-building at the beach with your elder sisters. They dress you up in a bright-yellow summer dress with a lot of flowers and ribbons and whatnot, and coo over how pretty you look. Yur mother snaps a photo of you before you are all bundled into the car. You earn a treat of a lollipop for being so good, and you finish it while looking out of the window at the trees and cars rushing past.
When you reach, your mother gets you a popsicle and tells you not to run too far away. You walk until you spot another boy of around your age, with his brother, playing with mounds of sand.
"Hi," you say, and promptly plop down beside them.
"I'm Junho," one of them says, "And he's Junsu. We're twins. I'm the older one."
You eye him a little suspiciously, then say, "But you don't look the same."
"We're fraternal twins," Junho says importantly. "That means we are twins except we don't look the same."
"Oh," you say, pretending to understand.
Junsu smiles at you and points at the popsicle in your hand. "Can I have a lick?"
"Okay," you say benovently, because umma always told you to share. You hand it over, and lick away the sticky orange liquid on your fingers.
"What's your name?" Junho asks, digging his fingers into the powdery sand.
"Jaejoong," you say, and watch as Junsu eats your popsicle in a funny way.
Junho looks confused. "But that's a boy's name," he tells you, as if you didn't know already.
"I'm a boy," you tell him, and Junsu stops licking the popsicle and stares at you.
"But why are you wearing a dress?" The two of them chorus together.
You shrug, a little embarrassed, and tug at the dress uncomfortably. "My noonas always say I'm to pretty to be a boy," you explain. "They like to dress me up."
Junsu says, "You are pretty", and smiles at you.
You can't help smiling back.
(b)
You are standing at the traffic light, at the juncture of a crossroad, clutching a folder full of your scribbles and lyrics - random writings you jot down when you wake up at untimely hours of the night from a dream with a sentence or two skipping across your head.
Clichés happen. The light flicks to green, and when you are crossing halfway, by some stroke of fate your fingers slip, and the folder tumbles out of your hands to the ground.
"Shit," you mutter under your breath, bending down to grab it.
Your heart is on overdrive, and you can't help looking upwards non-stop towards the traffic light even as you are frantically trying to rescue your flying papers.
"Are you trying to get killed?" Someone asks, and snags the last remaining few pieces of paper. Before you know it, the passer-by grabs your arm and tugs you to the roadside.
"Thanks," you say, as he hands you the papers after a swift glance at the words scrawled messily across them.
He smiles. "You write?" He asks, as you carefully slip the sheets of paper back into the folder.
You shrug. "A little," you say tentatively.
"Do you want to grab a coffee?" He says, tilting his head in the direction of the café the two of you are standing in front of.
You agree.
You spend your sunday afternoon falling in love.
(c)
You guess you must have looked somewhat confused, in the heart of Seoul city with a gigantic backpack slung across your shoulders and a map in your hands, because he stops and asks you if you need help.
"I'm from chungnam," you say.
"First time in Seoul?" He asks.
You nod, glancing a little nervously at the busy streets and people pushing past you.
He says, "Where do you want to go to?"
The light of the sun turns his hair golden, and his smile is bright as he stands in front of you.
Anywhere with you, you think. "My hotel," you say.
He is helpful and cheery, and leads you right to the doorway of the hotel. You ask for his phone number and say awkwardly, "You know, because I'm kind of new here, so..."
He nods in understanding and scribbles down his phone number and hands it to you with a smile. "Call me anytime you need help," he offers.
You thank him. You'd been asking for directions, but he'd somehow found the direction to your heart.
But this is how it happened:
You've seen him around in the company before, him with the infectious grin and wonderful singing voice.
"Kim Junsu," Yunho says beside you. "And Park Yoochun, Shim Changmin."
"So we're all going to be a group?" You ask, the two of you sitting cross-legged outside the dance studio.
You can hear the noisy beat of the music inside the room, of the instructor shouting at random trainees, and you unknowingly tap your fingers on the ground to the rhythm of the song.
Yunho nods. "Heechul gave me hell about it," he tells you, and makes a face.
"Class dismissed," you hear the instructor say. The door is flung open, and streams of sweaty teenagers stream out of the studio, talking and laughing and complaining.
And then you see him again.
He is smiling, with his best friend (Hyukjae, you think, that's what the other guy is called, right?) and gesturing a lot. Probably talking about a dance move, you guess.
Yunho gets up and walks over to the chattering pair.
"Jung Yunho," you hiss, but Yunho ignores you and continues walking and you have no choice but to tag along behind.
"I'm Yunho," he says. "You're Junsu, right? We're all going to be in the same group - you, me, Jaejoong and two other guys."
Junsu's eyes are wide in his face, and he turns quickly to look at Hyukjae, who has visibly paled.
"What?" Hyukjae asks disbelievingly. "You didn't say a thing!" he says, staring accusingly at Junsu.
"Hyukjae, I can explain," Junsu starts desperately, but Hyukjae has turned on his heel and walked away.
You shoot a look-what-you've-done-now at Yunho, who says guiltily to Junsu, "I'm sorry, so sorry, I didn't know."
Junsu shakes his head and just stands there, blank expression on his face.
You look at him. "What the hell are you doing?" You ask. "Go and chase after him!"
Junsu blinks. "Oh," he says, and then he's running.
You entered my life with the force of a carcrash, an explosion, a supernova. I loved you with every single bit of my heart and maybe more, and i guess once upon a time maybe you did too.
Jaejoong/Junsu
1133 words
you spend your sunday afternoon falling in love.
possibilities
These are the ways it could have gone:
(a)
At five, summer time spells of ice cream and sandcastle-building at the beach with your elder sisters. They dress you up in a bright-yellow summer dress with a lot of flowers and ribbons and whatnot, and coo over how pretty you look. Yur mother snaps a photo of you before you are all bundled into the car. You earn a treat of a lollipop for being so good, and you finish it while looking out of the window at the trees and cars rushing past.
When you reach, your mother gets you a popsicle and tells you not to run too far away. You walk until you spot another boy of around your age, with his brother, playing with mounds of sand.
"Hi," you say, and promptly plop down beside them.
"I'm Junho," one of them says, "And he's Junsu. We're twins. I'm the older one."
You eye him a little suspiciously, then say, "But you don't look the same."
"We're fraternal twins," Junho says importantly. "That means we are twins except we don't look the same."
"Oh," you say, pretending to understand.
Junsu smiles at you and points at the popsicle in your hand. "Can I have a lick?"
"Okay," you say benovently, because umma always told you to share. You hand it over, and lick away the sticky orange liquid on your fingers.
"What's your name?" Junho asks, digging his fingers into the powdery sand.
"Jaejoong," you say, and watch as Junsu eats your popsicle in a funny way.
Junho looks confused. "But that's a boy's name," he tells you, as if you didn't know already.
"I'm a boy," you tell him, and Junsu stops licking the popsicle and stares at you.
"But why are you wearing a dress?" The two of them chorus together.
You shrug, a little embarrassed, and tug at the dress uncomfortably. "My noonas always say I'm to pretty to be a boy," you explain. "They like to dress me up."
Junsu says, "You are pretty", and smiles at you.
You can't help smiling back.
(b)
You are standing at the traffic light, at the juncture of a crossroad, clutching a folder full of your scribbles and lyrics - random writings you jot down when you wake up at untimely hours of the night from a dream with a sentence or two skipping across your head.
Clichés happen. The light flicks to green, and when you are crossing halfway, by some stroke of fate your fingers slip, and the folder tumbles out of your hands to the ground.
"Shit," you mutter under your breath, bending down to grab it.
Your heart is on overdrive, and you can't help looking upwards non-stop towards the traffic light even as you are frantically trying to rescue your flying papers.
"Are you trying to get killed?" Someone asks, and snags the last remaining few pieces of paper. Before you know it, the passer-by grabs your arm and tugs you to the roadside.
"Thanks," you say, as he hands you the papers after a swift glance at the words scrawled messily across them.
He smiles. "You write?" He asks, as you carefully slip the sheets of paper back into the folder.
You shrug. "A little," you say tentatively.
"Do you want to grab a coffee?" He says, tilting his head in the direction of the café the two of you are standing in front of.
You agree.
You spend your sunday afternoon falling in love.
(c)
You guess you must have looked somewhat confused, in the heart of Seoul city with a gigantic backpack slung across your shoulders and a map in your hands, because he stops and asks you if you need help.
"I'm from chungnam," you say.
"First time in Seoul?" He asks.
You nod, glancing a little nervously at the busy streets and people pushing past you.
He says, "Where do you want to go to?"
The light of the sun turns his hair golden, and his smile is bright as he stands in front of you.
Anywhere with you, you think. "My hotel," you say.
He is helpful and cheery, and leads you right to the doorway of the hotel. You ask for his phone number and say awkwardly, "You know, because I'm kind of new here, so..."
He nods in understanding and scribbles down his phone number and hands it to you with a smile. "Call me anytime you need help," he offers.
You thank him. You'd been asking for directions, but he'd somehow found the direction to your heart.
But this is how it happened:
You've seen him around in the company before, him with the infectious grin and wonderful singing voice.
"Kim Junsu," Yunho says beside you. "And Park Yoochun, Shim Changmin."
"So we're all going to be a group?" You ask, the two of you sitting cross-legged outside the dance studio.
You can hear the noisy beat of the music inside the room, of the instructor shouting at random trainees, and you unknowingly tap your fingers on the ground to the rhythm of the song.
Yunho nods. "Heechul gave me hell about it," he tells you, and makes a face.
"Class dismissed," you hear the instructor say. The door is flung open, and streams of sweaty teenagers stream out of the studio, talking and laughing and complaining.
And then you see him again.
He is smiling, with his best friend (Hyukjae, you think, that's what the other guy is called, right?) and gesturing a lot. Probably talking about a dance move, you guess.
Yunho gets up and walks over to the chattering pair.
"Jung Yunho," you hiss, but Yunho ignores you and continues walking and you have no choice but to tag along behind.
"I'm Yunho," he says. "You're Junsu, right? We're all going to be in the same group - you, me, Jaejoong and two other guys."
Junsu's eyes are wide in his face, and he turns quickly to look at Hyukjae, who has visibly paled.
"What?" Hyukjae asks disbelievingly. "You didn't say a thing!" he says, staring accusingly at Junsu.
"Hyukjae, I can explain," Junsu starts desperately, but Hyukjae has turned on his heel and walked away.
You shoot a look-what-you've-done-now at Yunho, who says guiltily to Junsu, "I'm sorry, so sorry, I didn't know."
Junsu shakes his head and just stands there, blank expression on his face.
You look at him. "What the hell are you doing?" You ask. "Go and chase after him!"
Junsu blinks. "Oh," he says, and then he's running.
You entered my life with the force of a carcrash, an explosion, a supernova. I loved you with every single bit of my heart and maybe more, and i guess once upon a time maybe you did too.