"Misunderstood" [2/2]
Title: Misunderstood [2/2]
Pairing: Yunho/Yoochun
Genre: AU, drama/romance
Warnings: Not-quite-angst because I can't write angst; cameos from Heechul and Kangin
Words: 10 731
Summary: To Yunho, eight years was never too long. Until now.
Note: Companion piece to Mismatched.
When Yoochun returned home that night, shrugging off his jacket by the time he got to the door and with only a good night's sleep on his mind, he found Yunho propped up against the arm of their couch, a textbook in his hand and a cup on the coffee table. Probably tea, probably cold. The room was dark but for a lamp behind Yunho, its soft yellow glow casting an elongated shadow of the older man against the wall.
He reached over to turn the overhead lights on as he slipped out of his shoes. Hanging his keys up and setting his wallet down on the kitchen counter took but a minute and he strolled over to where his friend lay, whose eyes never lifted up from the mass of words in front of him.
"It's late," he said softly, almost as if he was afraid to interrupt the careful stillness with which Yunho attempted very hard not to look up at him, to see the usual rumpled shirt or the lipstick smeared on that spot just beneath his earlobe. Yoochun knew this. They had done this routine far too many times.
Tonight, however, was different.
"Yeah." Yunho didn't lift his head.
"I meant to come back earlier," he didn't try to make any excuses; instead, he walked over to the couch and took a seat on the other end, keeping carefully to his side as Yunho automatically curled his legs under him. That was a promising sign. "Work held me up."
Yunho looked up at that, eyes dull but curious. They took in the gel still gleaming from strands of his hair, the dryness that always afflicted his skin after removing the make up too quickly, the pair of torn jeans and T-shirt he never would've worn had he been meeting a woman, and he nodded, acknowledging his honesty. Then his eyes slid downwards again towards his textbook.
Yoochun continued to observe his friend of eight years and was struck by the tiredness that seemed to exude from every pore of his skin. Yunho took good care of himself, but even he couldn't hide what nature deemed as universal signs of exhaustion - shadows under his eyes, an almost unnoticeable gauntness to his cheeks, the way his head dipped low every time he was too distracted to notice. Making his early runs kept him healthy but physical (and emotional?) strain shone through nonetheless.
"Hey, I..."
Yunho shut his textbook with a snap and gave him a smile that never reached his eyes. "Well, I better get to bed if I want to wake up in time tomorrow for the shoot."
"Uh, yeah," Yoochun backtracked and physically backed away as well, standing up. "I, um - " It was absolutely not his cheeks reddening and Yoochun hoped to god Yunho couldn't see in the dim lighting. Speaking of which, "Why are you reading with just the lamp on anyway?" he asked in a slightly accusing tone.
Yunho looked surprised, and then chuckled. "I guess I didn't notice," he answered, not without a hint of self-deprecating humour.
"You have to protect your eyes, you know, if you're going to be a hot shot attorney," Yoochun pointed out softly and then when Yunho looked down, Yoochun wondered why he looked so sad.
The next few days consisted of the same silences and awkwardly stilted conversations. Yunho felt as though he'd lost his nerve - he couldn't look Yoochun in the eye, he could barely function without thinking about all of it, the whole entire mess.
Strangely enough, it seemed to make him a better model. He kept getting "Yes, yes, perfect!" and "Yunho, you're brilliant today!" from the more quirky photographers that he worked with. Some of the stylists complimented him on the new intensity he displayed; "his piercing expression."
He wondered if any of his colleagues realized that impending heartbreak was the key to success in this business.
In those few days, however, Yunho quietly made arrangements. Everything had changed, and now something had to give. He knew innately that he would have to be the one to give.
To his credit, Yoochun left him alone most of the time. That day, when Yunho had come back from a modeling stint, Yoochun greeted him quietly before going out the door, leather jacket slung over his shoulder and his hair styled impeccably. It made Yunho want to run his hands through it, mussing the too long locks that framed his face. Through some unspoken agreement, they kept to themselves and left the other alone with his thoughts.
Finally, a week later, Yunho wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans and lifted a hand to knock on Yoochun's bedroom door. It was eight in the evening. Having just come back from a quick dinner with Junsu, he had gone into his room to hide while pacing the hardwood floor over and over again. He toured his room at least five times, picking things up and putting it back. There was a framed photo of him and his family on his desk. The novel he'd been reading out of leisure but hadn't had time to get back to it for over a month because of work and school. His favourite mug, with the dried tea stains at the bottom. He'd forgotten to rinse it.
He had frozen in place when he heard the front door slam and slow footsteps trudge their way into the bedroom next to his. At his feet had sat a duffel bag, nearly fully packed. All that was left was his cell phone charger and laptop. But taking those things meant he wasn't coming back for awhile, didn't it? He had wondered if he should leave it behind, create at least an excuse to return.
Yunho lifted a hand to knock again when the door suddenly opened and Yoochun stared up at him. Surprised, he dropped his hand and opened his mouth, but was beaten to the punch.
"Hey, come on in," Yoochun said a little too quickly after a pause, stepping back so that Yunho could edge his way through the door. Once Yunho stood in the center of the room awkwardly, Yoochun shut the door and gestured towards the bed. "I guess you want to...talk," he began, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
"Don't sound so eager," Yunho joked. It was clear it fell flat, but Yoochun gave him a crooked smile anyway and they both sat down on the bed, backs pressed against the wall and their legs stretched out in front of them, side by side. It helped that they weren't looking at each other and had enough space between them to feel...safer, yet at the same time, just enough proximity for it to be reassuring.
"You know," Yoochun began awkwardly, "that day - "
"It's fine," Yunho said quickly. He really didn't want to hear it. "I overreacted. If you're going to have someone over, just let me know beforehand."
Yoochun was silent for a few rights. "...Right. I'll be sure to do that." He sounded apologetic, exactly how Yunho expected him to sound.
Yunho took a deep breath. "I'm staying at a friend's place for a few days."
"Okay." The one word communicated several things; a casual nonchalance, the assumption that this wasn't a big deal, merely an insignificant notification from a friend to another friend.
He fought to keep his expression neutral. "Ah...good." The silence seemed to stretch out for eons. It made Yunho clench his teeth. "Look, I was actually thinking of moving out soon."
To say that Yoochun was stunned was an understatement. He actually propelled forward, away from the wall, twisting his upper body to face Yunho with an expression that could only be defined as both alarmed and outraged.
It made Yunho feel a little petty, to be honest, but he was glad of the anger rolling off his friend in waves. At least it showed that what they had, even in the most platonic manner, still meant something.
"Why?"
"Because I - I need my space," Yunho stuttered, and hated himself for it. He wasn't going to allow himself to appear indecisive and weak, because he'd been plagued by both for far too long when dealing with Park Yoochun. Yet the look on Yoochun's face, when it dawned on him that Yunho really meant 'space away from him', damn near tore his heart out. It was almost instinctual by now, after so many years, to reach out for his best friend whenever that look appeared on his face. It had happened many times before - whenever the topic of his family came up, when his first girlfriend broke up with him, when he got fired from several modeling jobs that time he was caught underage drinking. Never had Yunho been the cause of it, until now.
"This is too sudden," Yoochun declared, eyes narrowed now, still radiating hurt. "We were fine until the day - you - " He blushed and this time Yunho could clearly see, which made him gape. Undeterred, Yoochun plowed onwards. "Look, if this is about Minyoung - "
"So that's her?"
"What?"
Yunho frowned and then tilted his head tentatively. "Pretty name."
"So that is the problem!"
"No!"
"Fuck, Yunho, what do you want from me?" Yoochun slumped in his seat, tilting his head to rub his forehead with two fingers, a tiny crease beginning to form between his eyebrows. "If you want me to stop bringing them home, just say so. I'll stop."
"I could care less whether someone's gracing your bed every other night," Yunho lied, keeping his face blank.
Yoochun sat back, frowned, and stared at him expectantly.
That seemed to be his cue to start talking. 'Now or never, Jung Yunho, speak the truth.' "Remember graduation?" He asked quietly, eyes straying to the bed, where his hands were fiddling with the bedspread.
"Er..." Yoochun looked away, blush deepening slightly, panic spreading across his face. "I apologized for that though."
This wasn't going to work. Even before the conversation was over, Yunho knew he would never be able to say it to Yoochun's face. It was a matter of pride - god, if Yoochun freaked out and bolted, leaving Yunho with the knowledge that he'd been obsessed over an unrequited love for the past eight years - the very idea made his breath short and fear cloud his thoughts.
He smiled stiffly. "I feel a little like we were never really able to put it behind us."
"But - "
"Maybe it's because we moved on as if it never happened and then we moved in together so quickly afterwards. I just," here, he took a deep breath, "think that if we weren't always together, it would be better for both of us and our friendship." Well, that sounded like a textbook response. Right out of, 'How to Fuck Up Your 8 Year Long Friendship Forever.'
It was clear Yoochun knew him too well to accept such a bullshit answer, because he threw his hands up in exasperation, eyes darkening angrily. "That doesn't even make sense! So spending less time is supposed to improve our friendship?"
"It'll improve my sanity!" Yunho snapped.
"Well why don't you just tell me what's wrong instead of making up excuses?"
"I..." He couldn't.
Yoochun's face grew tight. "Let me guess, you're staying with Junsu."
"What does that - "
"You are." Looking stunned, Yoochun leaned back. "You can't stand my presence to the point where you would go running - "
This was spinning completely out of control. "This has nothing to do with anyone else," he said.
"Well I'm not the one bringing anyone else into this, am I?" Yoochun said bitterly.
The irony of that statement almost made him choke, indignation spilling out of his mouth. He laughed. "You're joking, right?"
Yoochun even had the nerve to look lost now, frowning in that same way he always did when something was just beyond his reach. "What?"
"Here's the difference, Yoochun," he gritted out with mock patience, "Junsu is a friend. He's not my bed warmer."
"Who I fuck is none of your business," Yoochun responded in the exact same tone. "If you prefer Junsu over me, at least have the decency to be upfront about it. I'll gladly get the hell out of your life."
Oh fuck. "Well, maybe you should." Then Yunho could finally move on. Then he'd stop dreaming of the wind blowing in his hair and Yoochun's fingers laced with his own, city lights spread out before them.
Yoochun's expression grew so cold that Yunho almost reached out, his fingers twitching by his side. They were silent for a few minutes, deep and harsh exhaling resounding throughout the room as they looked everywhere but at each other. Finally, Yunho got off the bed and barely keeping his trembling in check, made for the door.
Yoochun's voice stopped him cold. It sounded uncharacteristically soft
"When you feel like telling me the truth, maybe we can actually talk this out." Hopeful and sad and regretful. When the door shut behind Yunho, he leaned against it slightly and shut his eyes.
If his vision was blurry as he roughly shoved his cell phone charger into his bag, he ignored it.
The next day found him looking into the end of a long lens, fighting to keep the despair from breaking over his face. It didn't help that on one end of his peripheral vision he could see Yoochun pacing the corner of the room, avoiding everyone, and on the other end he kept catching Junsu's questioning eyes. By the time his portion of the shoot ended, he was about ready to bolt into the locker room and possibly never come out.
Coincidentally, Changmin was pulling his shirt over his head as he strode in, the door swinging shut behind him.
"Hyung!" Changmin greeted him with his characteristic shy smile.
Forcing his shoulders to relax and a genuinely happy grin to appear, Yunho patted him on the shoulder as he walked past. "Hey, how're you doing? How's Jaejoong?"
The younger man promptly froze, mouth open slightly in surprise.
Yunho winced. He must've been more out of it than he expected, if he let that slip. "I forgot to tell you that I'm friends with Jaejoong and he told me about you two. Small world, huh?" He said gently, watching as Changmin took a deep breath and nodded.
"How long have you known him?"
"We did our undergrad degrees together, until he decided to pursue hairstyling in our fourth year," Yunho said. He quickly changed as Changmin looked thoughtfully into the distance, perhaps imagining a younger Jaejoong dropping out of university against the wishes of his family to do what he thought would give him the most happiness. Yunho could still recall Jaejoong's ecstatic face when he'd gone to the grand opening of his salon.
Yunho hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder, having kept it in his locker during the shoot, and glanced back at Changmin. "Coming?"
"Yeah."
They took their time walking through the winding hallways of the building. Yunho had always felt calm around Changmin. The quiet and shy tended to get shafted in the industry, but Changmin had a strength that seemed to exude from some place deep inside him. While it wasn't necessarily self-confidence - Yunho had caught him looking critically at himself on available reflexive surfaces on more than one occasion - Changmin seemed to persevere at the most difficult of times. Even when Yunho himself was close to dropping from exhaustion, finding it difficult to remain professional as the work day dragged on and on, Changmin presented a professional front at all times.
Yunho wondered if it would rub off on him.
"I never thanked you, hyung."
"Hm?"
"That time you helped me out," Changmin turned to him with a grateful smile, "thanks."
"Ah, that!" Yunho laughed. "No need to thank me, it wasn't a big deal."
"It was to me," Changmin said quietly and looked down as they walked. "Not a lot of people are kind for the sake of being kind. I just want you to know it was appreciated."
Yunho patted him on the back nonchalantly and didn't reply. Still, it made him feel pleased somehow.
They met up with Junsu by the entrance, who was waiting for them with a bright grin. Yoochun was no where in sight.
After grabbing a quick meal, Changmin left them with a wave. They began the slow walk back to Junsu's apartment, trusting the night to hide their faces as long as passerby didn't look to closely.
"So - "
Yunho sighed. "Not now."
"Well it's either now or later tonight, so might as well get it over with," Junsu pointed out, careful to keep the humorous tone in place.
"I know what you're going to say already."
Junsu eyed him critically. "Do you really?"
"You're not a hard person to predict," he grinned mischievously.
"Hey!"
He chuckled. "Seriously though, congratulations is probably not what I need right now. Thanks though."
A strange look came over Junsu's face. "Um...I wasn't going to congratulate you."
Yunho blinked.
Junsu heaved a sigh. "Of course you're welcome to stay at my place. It's not as if the guest room's being used. I just want to make sure you're sure about this. I mean, this is a pretty drastic move."
"You said - "
"To let him stop bullying you, not for you to move out."
"This is not moving out," he pointed out, "I need some time to think, to decide my next move. Right now, I can't think straight when I'm around him."
It had always been easy confiding in Junsu - unlike his hyungs from university, Junsu was on an equal footing with him. He was working in the same industry, used to the oddities of his colleagues by now, unruffled by the prospect of his best friend being gay or his best friend being in a gay relationship with someone he rather intensely disliked. Junsu was open about himself, eager to please, easily excitable, family oriented, and unfortunately, completely straight. Still, he had a steady head on his shoulders and dispensed good advice. What Yunho could not possibly voice to Yoochun, he was able to tell Junsu with ease.
Junsu hesitated. They were rounding the corner now, approaching the apartment building. He shrugged. "Well, I'm not going to convince you of anything now. C'mon."
To his credit, Junsu didn't bring it up again until Yunho had emerged from the bathroom, towel around his shoulders, a well-worn wife-beater stretched over his chest and a pair of drawstring sweatpants hanging long on his hips.
"Want a drink?"
"Sure, thanks."
Once they were both seated across from each other at Junsu's sleek black kitchen table, beers in hand, Yunho could recognize that Junsu actually had something to say, as opposed to merely advice to give. He was pursuing this with more conviction then Yunho had expected.
Junsu took a long gulp from the can in his hand. "Yoochun came up to me today."
He tried not to choke. "What?" was his strangled reply.
His friend tilted his head thoughtfully. "I didn't tell him anything, don't worry."
"I know you wouldn't," Yunho said quickly, mind racing. "Did he act, uh, hostile?"
"Surprisingly, no. I expected him to but...he didn't really have a lot to say, actually. Mentioned needing to talk to you and gave me his number, 'just in case'. Whatever that means," Junsu said, eyeing him with an amused smile.
Yunho groaned and covered his eyes with his hand, trying to contain himself. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. Trust Yoochun to display ambiguous behaviour when Yunho had finally decided to save himself from the hole he'd dug.
"He also said not to tell you about it but, hey, when have I ever listened to him?"
"And vice versa," Yunho added.
"Right." Junsu was nodding, eyes dancing. "Anyway, that kind of gave it away, the fact that you two didn't actually resolve anything. Remember what I said about self-delusion?"
"So according to your opinion," Yunho said as he stared down at the can in his hand, "what exactly am I deluding myself about?"
"That you'll somehow lose something if you told him the truth? You won't know until you try, Yunho."
"Resorting to clichés now, are we?"
"Well, it's a cliché for a reason." Junsu tapped the table with a finger. "This is but another hurdle in life. Sometimes you have to decide whether the outcome is worth it. Like...me, I had to choose between soccer or singing. Weighing which one would eventually give me the most happiness was probably the hardest decision I had to make. And it all worked out in the end, just like this will."
"That's a horrible analogy," Yunho chuckled weakly.
"Thanks," he said sarcastically but shook his head. "Think about it this way. If you've already spent eight years on this guy, what makes you think living elsewhere is going to make it go away? Just because he's not around doesn't mean you're not going to be thinking about him."
"It's better than - "
"Hyung, just finish it." Junsu stared at him seriously. "If not, you're going to go crazy thinking about it so much. It's either he feels the same or he doesn't. Accept it, and then move on."
Well.
If that didn't make him feel like the dongsaeng, he didn't know what would. Still, he thought as he stared at the dark ceiling in Junsu's guest bedroom while listening to his friend snore through the walls, Junsu couldn't possibly understand. Yunho loved Yoochun. When it came right down to it, admitting that he did indeed love him was much easier than trying to deal with what was happening now. Loving him was a fact; Yunho had long ago finished deliberating with himself about it. It was unchangeable, but this - everything could change in an instant.
Yunho wasn't afraid - but he was wary, and that was what was holding him back.
At least, that's what he repeatedly told himself as he drifted off to sleep that night.
The morning always made everything seem better. The next few mornings, however, did anything but that. Modeling offers piled up. Ones Yunho normally would ask SM to reject for him, he accepted instead. Midterms were coming up for his online courses and he spent most of his free time going to the library to study, a cap pulled down low over his face. He continued staying at Junsu's place.
It was so much easier to let things hang between them. At least he could pretend Yoochun was still his friend, that he was just too busy to see him, to deal with it all.
It was sometime into the middle of the second week he'd been staying at Junsu's that he came to a sudden realization.
Nothing in particular enlightened him. He'd been reading one of the more difficult papers one evening and had become increasingly frustrated. Finally, he had let it slide out of his hand onto the floor as he leaned back against the pillows cushioning him from the headboard.
Change had never been good. Change had moved him from familiar surroundings of the peaceful countryside to the intimidating hustle and bustle of the city. Change had brought loneliness. But hadn't it also brought him and Yoochun together? He'd met someone who had showed him that beauty wasn't just the inky sky dotted with brightly twinkling stars, endlessly stretching out overhead as he walked a dirt path towards home. Beauty came in all forms, even in artificial lights and gas fumes rising into the air. Juxtaposing the two always made his heart ache, but it reminded him of Yoochun.
Sometimes Yoochun could be incredibly frustrating. He could be both crude and rude. He lacked tact, he was blunt with his opinions, he made it obvious whom he liked and whom he disliked. He had a bit of an ego, yet he wasn't very competitive. He could be incredibly kind. He could gently take your hand and lead you down dark hallways of the school, guide you up the stairs and make sure you didn't slip on the steps, laugh as you stumbled but lay a gentle hand on your hip to steady you, and give you what you needed at your loneliest.
The young Yunho had never seen the city from above before, except on television. He'd never imagined it could be like this: the wind blowing in his hair, the low murmur of life ringing in his ears, long fingers (from playing piano) laced with his own.
When Yunho finally sat up from the bed, his eyes were closed and his cheeks were wet. This time, he put his face in his hands and inhaled deeply. Then he stood up to pack.
He crept into Junsu's room and poked the prone body. When he whispered that he was going home, all he got for his trouble was a grunt and a "Finally" that made him smile fondly.
Losing his nerve wasn't an option, he told himself when he finally arrived at his own doorstep. He was just about to insert his key when the door flew open and Yoochun grabbed his wrist, pulling him inside.
His bag slipped from his hand and hit the floor just as Yoochun buried his face into his shoulder, a hand lightly resting on his arm. Yunho froze, eyes wide as he stared downwards.
"You bastard."
"Yoochun - "
"Don't ever do that again, you hear me?" Yoochun's voice was muffled and quiet, but Yunho could hear how thick it was and how familiar. There was a lump at his throat but Yoochun was the one who swallowed loudly.
"Yeah," he said softly, turning his head slightly to bury his nose in his friend's hair, letting his arms wind loosely around his waist.
They stayed like that for awhile, at least until Yoochun's neck started hurting and Yunho began to wonder whether he could pull Yoochun just a little bit closer. When they separated, both were a little stiff, as if the short time away from each other made the other's presence unfamiliar. As if it would take getting used to again.
Yoochun wordlessly hefted Yunho's bag and tossed it onto the couch. Then he took a step back and stared at him disquietingly. "So what was that all about?"
Did he mean the whole thing about moving out? Yunho's sudden return? Their embrace? Yunho looked away and sighed. He'd expected himself to feel a little more panicked now that the moment had truly come, but he could only feel the weariness slipping away. Maybe he'd reached an epiphany or something, because he was ready to spill it all and yet he knew, in their own strange way, their friendship would survive.
"Well, I'm actually in love with you, Park Yoochun," he said conversationally, moving past him to head to the fridge for a beer. Alcohol wasn't a bad idea either.
The silence behind him was long and harsh, yet somehow he wasn't scared.
"How - " Yoochun cleared his throat, his voice shaking just the slightest bit. "Oh."
Yunho let that rest between them for awhile, opening the can with zest and taking a long swallow. When he finally turned around, Yoochun was staring at the ground, a frown on his face. He waited for him to speak.
After awhile, Yoochun looked up. "What do you want from me then?"
"What do I want?" Yunho repeated incredulously. "Yoochun, what does anybody want after they confess to someone they've been in love with for eight years?"
"Eight years?" Yoochun asked faintly.
"Yes, eight years! I didn't suck your cock at the grad after-party because I suddenly developed an affinity for blowing my best friend!"
Yoochun's eyes widened and his eyebrows went up. "We were both drunk!"
"Not to that extent," Yunho muttered. He didn't even blush.
Yoochun walked over to the couch and sat down, looking thoughtful. Feeling nervous, Yunho paced, taking sips of his beer as he took a seat at the counter. He knew better than to rush this, to expect Yoochun to understand wholly and completely what Yunho had gone through for so long, what he'd kept secret, why he'd kept it a secret.
Rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the can in his hand (he seemed to be doing that lot), he sighed. "Look, I don't expect you to accept this, it's fine if it scares you. I just needed you to know."
"So what is it you want?" He looked up, surprised. Yoochun was staring straight at him. "I think I'm really sick of you making all the decisions on your own and not telling me anything, thinking I wouldn't want to hear it. You let me decide for myself what I want and don't want to hear. Running to Junsu like you did, when you were feeling bad about being in love with me - I thought about you at Junsu's sometimes while you were gone and I was mad. I felt like I was going mad," Yoochun added thoughtfully. "I had half a mind to go there and drag you back myself."
"What are you saying?" Yunho asked, too afraid to hope, too optimistic a person to assume the worst.
"I'm saying - " at that moment, Yoochun looked scared out of his mind but determined, and Yunho instinctively stood and began walking towards him, steps slow and uncertain, " - that you belong here, with me. I don't want you with anyone else."
Yunho was right in front of him now, looming over his seated form. Yoochun looked up. Bending over until his forehead touched his, Yunho brought up a hand to gently cup the back of Yoochun's neck.
"If this isn't what you mean, tell me now because...because in about three seconds, I won't be able to stop myself," Yunho whispered harshly, staring straight into Yoochun's eyes.
Yoochun stared back at him. "Three, two, one?"
With a groan, Yunho covered his mouth with his own. He didn't waste time making it sweet and chaste. His tongue pushed in as Yoochun opened up under him, a small catch of breath encouraging him further. Yunho was licking into his mouth, nibbling on his bottom lip, shoving his hands through the thick locks at the back of Yoochun's head.
When he pulled back, it was only because his back was killing him and Yoochun was whimpering, running insistent hands along Yunho's sides, lips swollen.
"Eight years to make up for, huh?" Yoochun gasped lightly, lips curving into a crooked grin.
"Hell yeah," Yunho murmured and pulled him forward again.
Pairing: Yunho/Yoochun
Genre: AU, drama/romance
Warnings: Not-quite-angst because I can't write angst; cameos from Heechul and Kangin
Words: 10 731
Summary: To Yunho, eight years was never too long. Until now.
Note: Companion piece to Mismatched.
When Yoochun returned home that night, shrugging off his jacket by the time he got to the door and with only a good night's sleep on his mind, he found Yunho propped up against the arm of their couch, a textbook in his hand and a cup on the coffee table. Probably tea, probably cold. The room was dark but for a lamp behind Yunho, its soft yellow glow casting an elongated shadow of the older man against the wall.
He reached over to turn the overhead lights on as he slipped out of his shoes. Hanging his keys up and setting his wallet down on the kitchen counter took but a minute and he strolled over to where his friend lay, whose eyes never lifted up from the mass of words in front of him.
"It's late," he said softly, almost as if he was afraid to interrupt the careful stillness with which Yunho attempted very hard not to look up at him, to see the usual rumpled shirt or the lipstick smeared on that spot just beneath his earlobe. Yoochun knew this. They had done this routine far too many times.
Tonight, however, was different.
"Yeah." Yunho didn't lift his head.
"I meant to come back earlier," he didn't try to make any excuses; instead, he walked over to the couch and took a seat on the other end, keeping carefully to his side as Yunho automatically curled his legs under him. That was a promising sign. "Work held me up."
Yunho looked up at that, eyes dull but curious. They took in the gel still gleaming from strands of his hair, the dryness that always afflicted his skin after removing the make up too quickly, the pair of torn jeans and T-shirt he never would've worn had he been meeting a woman, and he nodded, acknowledging his honesty. Then his eyes slid downwards again towards his textbook.
Yoochun continued to observe his friend of eight years and was struck by the tiredness that seemed to exude from every pore of his skin. Yunho took good care of himself, but even he couldn't hide what nature deemed as universal signs of exhaustion - shadows under his eyes, an almost unnoticeable gauntness to his cheeks, the way his head dipped low every time he was too distracted to notice. Making his early runs kept him healthy but physical (and emotional?) strain shone through nonetheless.
"Hey, I..."
Yunho shut his textbook with a snap and gave him a smile that never reached his eyes. "Well, I better get to bed if I want to wake up in time tomorrow for the shoot."
"Uh, yeah," Yoochun backtracked and physically backed away as well, standing up. "I, um - " It was absolutely not his cheeks reddening and Yoochun hoped to god Yunho couldn't see in the dim lighting. Speaking of which, "Why are you reading with just the lamp on anyway?" he asked in a slightly accusing tone.
Yunho looked surprised, and then chuckled. "I guess I didn't notice," he answered, not without a hint of self-deprecating humour.
"You have to protect your eyes, you know, if you're going to be a hot shot attorney," Yoochun pointed out softly and then when Yunho looked down, Yoochun wondered why he looked so sad.
The next few days consisted of the same silences and awkwardly stilted conversations. Yunho felt as though he'd lost his nerve - he couldn't look Yoochun in the eye, he could barely function without thinking about all of it, the whole entire mess.
Strangely enough, it seemed to make him a better model. He kept getting "Yes, yes, perfect!" and "Yunho, you're brilliant today!" from the more quirky photographers that he worked with. Some of the stylists complimented him on the new intensity he displayed; "his piercing expression."
He wondered if any of his colleagues realized that impending heartbreak was the key to success in this business.
In those few days, however, Yunho quietly made arrangements. Everything had changed, and now something had to give. He knew innately that he would have to be the one to give.
To his credit, Yoochun left him alone most of the time. That day, when Yunho had come back from a modeling stint, Yoochun greeted him quietly before going out the door, leather jacket slung over his shoulder and his hair styled impeccably. It made Yunho want to run his hands through it, mussing the too long locks that framed his face. Through some unspoken agreement, they kept to themselves and left the other alone with his thoughts.
Finally, a week later, Yunho wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans and lifted a hand to knock on Yoochun's bedroom door. It was eight in the evening. Having just come back from a quick dinner with Junsu, he had gone into his room to hide while pacing the hardwood floor over and over again. He toured his room at least five times, picking things up and putting it back. There was a framed photo of him and his family on his desk. The novel he'd been reading out of leisure but hadn't had time to get back to it for over a month because of work and school. His favourite mug, with the dried tea stains at the bottom. He'd forgotten to rinse it.
He had frozen in place when he heard the front door slam and slow footsteps trudge their way into the bedroom next to his. At his feet had sat a duffel bag, nearly fully packed. All that was left was his cell phone charger and laptop. But taking those things meant he wasn't coming back for awhile, didn't it? He had wondered if he should leave it behind, create at least an excuse to return.
Yunho lifted a hand to knock again when the door suddenly opened and Yoochun stared up at him. Surprised, he dropped his hand and opened his mouth, but was beaten to the punch.
"Hey, come on in," Yoochun said a little too quickly after a pause, stepping back so that Yunho could edge his way through the door. Once Yunho stood in the center of the room awkwardly, Yoochun shut the door and gestured towards the bed. "I guess you want to...talk," he began, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
"Don't sound so eager," Yunho joked. It was clear it fell flat, but Yoochun gave him a crooked smile anyway and they both sat down on the bed, backs pressed against the wall and their legs stretched out in front of them, side by side. It helped that they weren't looking at each other and had enough space between them to feel...safer, yet at the same time, just enough proximity for it to be reassuring.
"You know," Yoochun began awkwardly, "that day - "
"It's fine," Yunho said quickly. He really didn't want to hear it. "I overreacted. If you're going to have someone over, just let me know beforehand."
Yoochun was silent for a few rights. "...Right. I'll be sure to do that." He sounded apologetic, exactly how Yunho expected him to sound.
Yunho took a deep breath. "I'm staying at a friend's place for a few days."
"Okay." The one word communicated several things; a casual nonchalance, the assumption that this wasn't a big deal, merely an insignificant notification from a friend to another friend.
He fought to keep his expression neutral. "Ah...good." The silence seemed to stretch out for eons. It made Yunho clench his teeth. "Look, I was actually thinking of moving out soon."
To say that Yoochun was stunned was an understatement. He actually propelled forward, away from the wall, twisting his upper body to face Yunho with an expression that could only be defined as both alarmed and outraged.
It made Yunho feel a little petty, to be honest, but he was glad of the anger rolling off his friend in waves. At least it showed that what they had, even in the most platonic manner, still meant something.
"Why?"
"Because I - I need my space," Yunho stuttered, and hated himself for it. He wasn't going to allow himself to appear indecisive and weak, because he'd been plagued by both for far too long when dealing with Park Yoochun. Yet the look on Yoochun's face, when it dawned on him that Yunho really meant 'space away from him', damn near tore his heart out. It was almost instinctual by now, after so many years, to reach out for his best friend whenever that look appeared on his face. It had happened many times before - whenever the topic of his family came up, when his first girlfriend broke up with him, when he got fired from several modeling jobs that time he was caught underage drinking. Never had Yunho been the cause of it, until now.
"This is too sudden," Yoochun declared, eyes narrowed now, still radiating hurt. "We were fine until the day - you - " He blushed and this time Yunho could clearly see, which made him gape. Undeterred, Yoochun plowed onwards. "Look, if this is about Minyoung - "
"So that's her?"
"What?"
Yunho frowned and then tilted his head tentatively. "Pretty name."
"So that is the problem!"
"No!"
"Fuck, Yunho, what do you want from me?" Yoochun slumped in his seat, tilting his head to rub his forehead with two fingers, a tiny crease beginning to form between his eyebrows. "If you want me to stop bringing them home, just say so. I'll stop."
"I could care less whether someone's gracing your bed every other night," Yunho lied, keeping his face blank.
Yoochun sat back, frowned, and stared at him expectantly.
That seemed to be his cue to start talking. 'Now or never, Jung Yunho, speak the truth.' "Remember graduation?" He asked quietly, eyes straying to the bed, where his hands were fiddling with the bedspread.
"Er..." Yoochun looked away, blush deepening slightly, panic spreading across his face. "I apologized for that though."
This wasn't going to work. Even before the conversation was over, Yunho knew he would never be able to say it to Yoochun's face. It was a matter of pride - god, if Yoochun freaked out and bolted, leaving Yunho with the knowledge that he'd been obsessed over an unrequited love for the past eight years - the very idea made his breath short and fear cloud his thoughts.
He smiled stiffly. "I feel a little like we were never really able to put it behind us."
"But - "
"Maybe it's because we moved on as if it never happened and then we moved in together so quickly afterwards. I just," here, he took a deep breath, "think that if we weren't always together, it would be better for both of us and our friendship." Well, that sounded like a textbook response. Right out of, 'How to Fuck Up Your 8 Year Long Friendship Forever.'
It was clear Yoochun knew him too well to accept such a bullshit answer, because he threw his hands up in exasperation, eyes darkening angrily. "That doesn't even make sense! So spending less time is supposed to improve our friendship?"
"It'll improve my sanity!" Yunho snapped.
"Well why don't you just tell me what's wrong instead of making up excuses?"
"I..." He couldn't.
Yoochun's face grew tight. "Let me guess, you're staying with Junsu."
"What does that - "
"You are." Looking stunned, Yoochun leaned back. "You can't stand my presence to the point where you would go running - "
This was spinning completely out of control. "This has nothing to do with anyone else," he said.
"Well I'm not the one bringing anyone else into this, am I?" Yoochun said bitterly.
The irony of that statement almost made him choke, indignation spilling out of his mouth. He laughed. "You're joking, right?"
Yoochun even had the nerve to look lost now, frowning in that same way he always did when something was just beyond his reach. "What?"
"Here's the difference, Yoochun," he gritted out with mock patience, "Junsu is a friend. He's not my bed warmer."
"Who I fuck is none of your business," Yoochun responded in the exact same tone. "If you prefer Junsu over me, at least have the decency to be upfront about it. I'll gladly get the hell out of your life."
Oh fuck. "Well, maybe you should." Then Yunho could finally move on. Then he'd stop dreaming of the wind blowing in his hair and Yoochun's fingers laced with his own, city lights spread out before them.
Yoochun's expression grew so cold that Yunho almost reached out, his fingers twitching by his side. They were silent for a few minutes, deep and harsh exhaling resounding throughout the room as they looked everywhere but at each other. Finally, Yunho got off the bed and barely keeping his trembling in check, made for the door.
Yoochun's voice stopped him cold. It sounded uncharacteristically soft
"When you feel like telling me the truth, maybe we can actually talk this out." Hopeful and sad and regretful. When the door shut behind Yunho, he leaned against it slightly and shut his eyes.
If his vision was blurry as he roughly shoved his cell phone charger into his bag, he ignored it.
The next day found him looking into the end of a long lens, fighting to keep the despair from breaking over his face. It didn't help that on one end of his peripheral vision he could see Yoochun pacing the corner of the room, avoiding everyone, and on the other end he kept catching Junsu's questioning eyes. By the time his portion of the shoot ended, he was about ready to bolt into the locker room and possibly never come out.
Coincidentally, Changmin was pulling his shirt over his head as he strode in, the door swinging shut behind him.
"Hyung!" Changmin greeted him with his characteristic shy smile.
Forcing his shoulders to relax and a genuinely happy grin to appear, Yunho patted him on the shoulder as he walked past. "Hey, how're you doing? How's Jaejoong?"
The younger man promptly froze, mouth open slightly in surprise.
Yunho winced. He must've been more out of it than he expected, if he let that slip. "I forgot to tell you that I'm friends with Jaejoong and he told me about you two. Small world, huh?" He said gently, watching as Changmin took a deep breath and nodded.
"How long have you known him?"
"We did our undergrad degrees together, until he decided to pursue hairstyling in our fourth year," Yunho said. He quickly changed as Changmin looked thoughtfully into the distance, perhaps imagining a younger Jaejoong dropping out of university against the wishes of his family to do what he thought would give him the most happiness. Yunho could still recall Jaejoong's ecstatic face when he'd gone to the grand opening of his salon.
Yunho hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder, having kept it in his locker during the shoot, and glanced back at Changmin. "Coming?"
"Yeah."
They took their time walking through the winding hallways of the building. Yunho had always felt calm around Changmin. The quiet and shy tended to get shafted in the industry, but Changmin had a strength that seemed to exude from some place deep inside him. While it wasn't necessarily self-confidence - Yunho had caught him looking critically at himself on available reflexive surfaces on more than one occasion - Changmin seemed to persevere at the most difficult of times. Even when Yunho himself was close to dropping from exhaustion, finding it difficult to remain professional as the work day dragged on and on, Changmin presented a professional front at all times.
Yunho wondered if it would rub off on him.
"I never thanked you, hyung."
"Hm?"
"That time you helped me out," Changmin turned to him with a grateful smile, "thanks."
"Ah, that!" Yunho laughed. "No need to thank me, it wasn't a big deal."
"It was to me," Changmin said quietly and looked down as they walked. "Not a lot of people are kind for the sake of being kind. I just want you to know it was appreciated."
Yunho patted him on the back nonchalantly and didn't reply. Still, it made him feel pleased somehow.
They met up with Junsu by the entrance, who was waiting for them with a bright grin. Yoochun was no where in sight.
After grabbing a quick meal, Changmin left them with a wave. They began the slow walk back to Junsu's apartment, trusting the night to hide their faces as long as passerby didn't look to closely.
"So - "
Yunho sighed. "Not now."
"Well it's either now or later tonight, so might as well get it over with," Junsu pointed out, careful to keep the humorous tone in place.
"I know what you're going to say already."
Junsu eyed him critically. "Do you really?"
"You're not a hard person to predict," he grinned mischievously.
"Hey!"
He chuckled. "Seriously though, congratulations is probably not what I need right now. Thanks though."
A strange look came over Junsu's face. "Um...I wasn't going to congratulate you."
Yunho blinked.
Junsu heaved a sigh. "Of course you're welcome to stay at my place. It's not as if the guest room's being used. I just want to make sure you're sure about this. I mean, this is a pretty drastic move."
"You said - "
"To let him stop bullying you, not for you to move out."
"This is not moving out," he pointed out, "I need some time to think, to decide my next move. Right now, I can't think straight when I'm around him."
It had always been easy confiding in Junsu - unlike his hyungs from university, Junsu was on an equal footing with him. He was working in the same industry, used to the oddities of his colleagues by now, unruffled by the prospect of his best friend being gay or his best friend being in a gay relationship with someone he rather intensely disliked. Junsu was open about himself, eager to please, easily excitable, family oriented, and unfortunately, completely straight. Still, he had a steady head on his shoulders and dispensed good advice. What Yunho could not possibly voice to Yoochun, he was able to tell Junsu with ease.
Junsu hesitated. They were rounding the corner now, approaching the apartment building. He shrugged. "Well, I'm not going to convince you of anything now. C'mon."
To his credit, Junsu didn't bring it up again until Yunho had emerged from the bathroom, towel around his shoulders, a well-worn wife-beater stretched over his chest and a pair of drawstring sweatpants hanging long on his hips.
"Want a drink?"
"Sure, thanks."
Once they were both seated across from each other at Junsu's sleek black kitchen table, beers in hand, Yunho could recognize that Junsu actually had something to say, as opposed to merely advice to give. He was pursuing this with more conviction then Yunho had expected.
Junsu took a long gulp from the can in his hand. "Yoochun came up to me today."
He tried not to choke. "What?" was his strangled reply.
His friend tilted his head thoughtfully. "I didn't tell him anything, don't worry."
"I know you wouldn't," Yunho said quickly, mind racing. "Did he act, uh, hostile?"
"Surprisingly, no. I expected him to but...he didn't really have a lot to say, actually. Mentioned needing to talk to you and gave me his number, 'just in case'. Whatever that means," Junsu said, eyeing him with an amused smile.
Yunho groaned and covered his eyes with his hand, trying to contain himself. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. Trust Yoochun to display ambiguous behaviour when Yunho had finally decided to save himself from the hole he'd dug.
"He also said not to tell you about it but, hey, when have I ever listened to him?"
"And vice versa," Yunho added.
"Right." Junsu was nodding, eyes dancing. "Anyway, that kind of gave it away, the fact that you two didn't actually resolve anything. Remember what I said about self-delusion?"
"So according to your opinion," Yunho said as he stared down at the can in his hand, "what exactly am I deluding myself about?"
"That you'll somehow lose something if you told him the truth? You won't know until you try, Yunho."
"Resorting to clichés now, are we?"
"Well, it's a cliché for a reason." Junsu tapped the table with a finger. "This is but another hurdle in life. Sometimes you have to decide whether the outcome is worth it. Like...me, I had to choose between soccer or singing. Weighing which one would eventually give me the most happiness was probably the hardest decision I had to make. And it all worked out in the end, just like this will."
"That's a horrible analogy," Yunho chuckled weakly.
"Thanks," he said sarcastically but shook his head. "Think about it this way. If you've already spent eight years on this guy, what makes you think living elsewhere is going to make it go away? Just because he's not around doesn't mean you're not going to be thinking about him."
"It's better than - "
"Hyung, just finish it." Junsu stared at him seriously. "If not, you're going to go crazy thinking about it so much. It's either he feels the same or he doesn't. Accept it, and then move on."
Well.
If that didn't make him feel like the dongsaeng, he didn't know what would. Still, he thought as he stared at the dark ceiling in Junsu's guest bedroom while listening to his friend snore through the walls, Junsu couldn't possibly understand. Yunho loved Yoochun. When it came right down to it, admitting that he did indeed love him was much easier than trying to deal with what was happening now. Loving him was a fact; Yunho had long ago finished deliberating with himself about it. It was unchangeable, but this - everything could change in an instant.
Yunho wasn't afraid - but he was wary, and that was what was holding him back.
At least, that's what he repeatedly told himself as he drifted off to sleep that night.
The morning always made everything seem better. The next few mornings, however, did anything but that. Modeling offers piled up. Ones Yunho normally would ask SM to reject for him, he accepted instead. Midterms were coming up for his online courses and he spent most of his free time going to the library to study, a cap pulled down low over his face. He continued staying at Junsu's place.
It was so much easier to let things hang between them. At least he could pretend Yoochun was still his friend, that he was just too busy to see him, to deal with it all.
It was sometime into the middle of the second week he'd been staying at Junsu's that he came to a sudden realization.
Nothing in particular enlightened him. He'd been reading one of the more difficult papers one evening and had become increasingly frustrated. Finally, he had let it slide out of his hand onto the floor as he leaned back against the pillows cushioning him from the headboard.
Change had never been good. Change had moved him from familiar surroundings of the peaceful countryside to the intimidating hustle and bustle of the city. Change had brought loneliness. But hadn't it also brought him and Yoochun together? He'd met someone who had showed him that beauty wasn't just the inky sky dotted with brightly twinkling stars, endlessly stretching out overhead as he walked a dirt path towards home. Beauty came in all forms, even in artificial lights and gas fumes rising into the air. Juxtaposing the two always made his heart ache, but it reminded him of Yoochun.
Sometimes Yoochun could be incredibly frustrating. He could be both crude and rude. He lacked tact, he was blunt with his opinions, he made it obvious whom he liked and whom he disliked. He had a bit of an ego, yet he wasn't very competitive. He could be incredibly kind. He could gently take your hand and lead you down dark hallways of the school, guide you up the stairs and make sure you didn't slip on the steps, laugh as you stumbled but lay a gentle hand on your hip to steady you, and give you what you needed at your loneliest.
The young Yunho had never seen the city from above before, except on television. He'd never imagined it could be like this: the wind blowing in his hair, the low murmur of life ringing in his ears, long fingers (from playing piano) laced with his own.
When Yunho finally sat up from the bed, his eyes were closed and his cheeks were wet. This time, he put his face in his hands and inhaled deeply. Then he stood up to pack.
He crept into Junsu's room and poked the prone body. When he whispered that he was going home, all he got for his trouble was a grunt and a "Finally" that made him smile fondly.
Losing his nerve wasn't an option, he told himself when he finally arrived at his own doorstep. He was just about to insert his key when the door flew open and Yoochun grabbed his wrist, pulling him inside.
His bag slipped from his hand and hit the floor just as Yoochun buried his face into his shoulder, a hand lightly resting on his arm. Yunho froze, eyes wide as he stared downwards.
"You bastard."
"Yoochun - "
"Don't ever do that again, you hear me?" Yoochun's voice was muffled and quiet, but Yunho could hear how thick it was and how familiar. There was a lump at his throat but Yoochun was the one who swallowed loudly.
"Yeah," he said softly, turning his head slightly to bury his nose in his friend's hair, letting his arms wind loosely around his waist.
They stayed like that for awhile, at least until Yoochun's neck started hurting and Yunho began to wonder whether he could pull Yoochun just a little bit closer. When they separated, both were a little stiff, as if the short time away from each other made the other's presence unfamiliar. As if it would take getting used to again.
Yoochun wordlessly hefted Yunho's bag and tossed it onto the couch. Then he took a step back and stared at him disquietingly. "So what was that all about?"
Did he mean the whole thing about moving out? Yunho's sudden return? Their embrace? Yunho looked away and sighed. He'd expected himself to feel a little more panicked now that the moment had truly come, but he could only feel the weariness slipping away. Maybe he'd reached an epiphany or something, because he was ready to spill it all and yet he knew, in their own strange way, their friendship would survive.
"Well, I'm actually in love with you, Park Yoochun," he said conversationally, moving past him to head to the fridge for a beer. Alcohol wasn't a bad idea either.
The silence behind him was long and harsh, yet somehow he wasn't scared.
"How - " Yoochun cleared his throat, his voice shaking just the slightest bit. "Oh."
Yunho let that rest between them for awhile, opening the can with zest and taking a long swallow. When he finally turned around, Yoochun was staring at the ground, a frown on his face. He waited for him to speak.
After awhile, Yoochun looked up. "What do you want from me then?"
"What do I want?" Yunho repeated incredulously. "Yoochun, what does anybody want after they confess to someone they've been in love with for eight years?"
"Eight years?" Yoochun asked faintly.
"Yes, eight years! I didn't suck your cock at the grad after-party because I suddenly developed an affinity for blowing my best friend!"
Yoochun's eyes widened and his eyebrows went up. "We were both drunk!"
"Not to that extent," Yunho muttered. He didn't even blush.
Yoochun walked over to the couch and sat down, looking thoughtful. Feeling nervous, Yunho paced, taking sips of his beer as he took a seat at the counter. He knew better than to rush this, to expect Yoochun to understand wholly and completely what Yunho had gone through for so long, what he'd kept secret, why he'd kept it a secret.
Rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the can in his hand (he seemed to be doing that lot), he sighed. "Look, I don't expect you to accept this, it's fine if it scares you. I just needed you to know."
"So what is it you want?" He looked up, surprised. Yoochun was staring straight at him. "I think I'm really sick of you making all the decisions on your own and not telling me anything, thinking I wouldn't want to hear it. You let me decide for myself what I want and don't want to hear. Running to Junsu like you did, when you were feeling bad about being in love with me - I thought about you at Junsu's sometimes while you were gone and I was mad. I felt like I was going mad," Yoochun added thoughtfully. "I had half a mind to go there and drag you back myself."
"What are you saying?" Yunho asked, too afraid to hope, too optimistic a person to assume the worst.
"I'm saying - " at that moment, Yoochun looked scared out of his mind but determined, and Yunho instinctively stood and began walking towards him, steps slow and uncertain, " - that you belong here, with me. I don't want you with anyone else."
Yunho was right in front of him now, looming over his seated form. Yoochun looked up. Bending over until his forehead touched his, Yunho brought up a hand to gently cup the back of Yoochun's neck.
"If this isn't what you mean, tell me now because...because in about three seconds, I won't be able to stop myself," Yunho whispered harshly, staring straight into Yoochun's eyes.
Yoochun stared back at him. "Three, two, one?"
With a groan, Yunho covered his mouth with his own. He didn't waste time making it sweet and chaste. His tongue pushed in as Yoochun opened up under him, a small catch of breath encouraging him further. Yunho was licking into his mouth, nibbling on his bottom lip, shoving his hands through the thick locks at the back of Yoochun's head.
When he pulled back, it was only because his back was killing him and Yoochun was whimpering, running insistent hands along Yunho's sides, lips swollen.
"Eight years to make up for, huh?" Yoochun gasped lightly, lips curving into a crooked grin.
"Hell yeah," Yunho murmured and pulled him forward again.