(fanfic) to love is to let go
Yunho/Jaejoong
to love is to let go.
You sit on the sofa hugging your knees; a bottle of wine keeps you company along with your usual packet of cigarettes. You sigh and look at your phone and then at the door and back to your phone.
Nothing.
You gulp down the last sip of wine, grab the cigarette pack from the top of the table and head towards the balcony, patting your pant pockets in search of a lighter. You take a drag and another and another, your throat burns and you let out a dry cough.
“You shouldn’t be smoking.”
You jump at the comment. You were all alone in your apartment, doors locked from inside and you hadn’t heard the doorbell ring. You spin around and he stands there in the shadows; of course, he has the keys to your apartment. You can’t see his face but, you know he’s tired.
“You shouldn’t be smoking.” He repeats himself, stretches his hand out and pulls the cigarette out of your grip. You expect him to stub it but he holds it to his lips and takes a deep, long drag. He’s never been more attractive.
“And it’s okay for you to smoke?” You snap, sounding more irritated than you had expected.
“Yes.” He replies coolly. He’s always been so cool.
Another drag.
You frown at him and pull out another cigarette from the pack; you can feel his gaze burning into your skull. You look up at him, lit cigarette dangling in between your lips; his small face is illuminated by the lighter's flame. He’s come directly from his shooting, you can make out. He’s still got his make up on and his hair is still styled.
“This half shaved head thing works for you.” You comment, blowing out the smoke.
“I know.” He replies smugly.
You smile, lean forward and catching hold of his wrist, you pull him into the balcony and slide the door shut. The both of you stand shoulder to shoulder, leaning against the railing and enjoying the smoke and the company.
The both of you are past the I miss you’s and the I love you’s and late night conversations; the both of you have grown past that; now it’s enjoying each other’s company (unexpected, sometimes) silently, sharing a cigarette or just breathing in the same space. It makes you feel calm, at peace and you know it makes him feel the same too.
“Changmin?” You ask.
“He’s on his way here.”
“So are the other two.”
He smiles, presses a kiss on to your shoulder and moves closer. And it has been seven years since the both of you have been together but, even today, his smile makes your heart skip a beat and makes your knees wobbly and one look into his brown eyes and you’re home.
A/N
Firstly, hi, long time.
I do not know what this is, I just typed it out and it made sense to me. It’s this disconnected-mature-love-thing going on there.
I don’t know if I will write more, this was just out of compulsion. Thank you .
to love is to let go.
You sit on the sofa hugging your knees; a bottle of wine keeps you company along with your usual packet of cigarettes. You sigh and look at your phone and then at the door and back to your phone.
Nothing.
You gulp down the last sip of wine, grab the cigarette pack from the top of the table and head towards the balcony, patting your pant pockets in search of a lighter. You take a drag and another and another, your throat burns and you let out a dry cough.
“You shouldn’t be smoking.”
You jump at the comment. You were all alone in your apartment, doors locked from inside and you hadn’t heard the doorbell ring. You spin around and he stands there in the shadows; of course, he has the keys to your apartment. You can’t see his face but, you know he’s tired.
“You shouldn’t be smoking.” He repeats himself, stretches his hand out and pulls the cigarette out of your grip. You expect him to stub it but he holds it to his lips and takes a deep, long drag. He’s never been more attractive.
“And it’s okay for you to smoke?” You snap, sounding more irritated than you had expected.
“Yes.” He replies coolly. He’s always been so cool.
Another drag.
You frown at him and pull out another cigarette from the pack; you can feel his gaze burning into your skull. You look up at him, lit cigarette dangling in between your lips; his small face is illuminated by the lighter's flame. He’s come directly from his shooting, you can make out. He’s still got his make up on and his hair is still styled.
“This half shaved head thing works for you.” You comment, blowing out the smoke.
“I know.” He replies smugly.
You smile, lean forward and catching hold of his wrist, you pull him into the balcony and slide the door shut. The both of you stand shoulder to shoulder, leaning against the railing and enjoying the smoke and the company.
The both of you are past the I miss you’s and the I love you’s and late night conversations; the both of you have grown past that; now it’s enjoying each other’s company (unexpected, sometimes) silently, sharing a cigarette or just breathing in the same space. It makes you feel calm, at peace and you know it makes him feel the same too.
“Changmin?” You ask.
“He’s on his way here.”
“So are the other two.”
He smiles, presses a kiss on to your shoulder and moves closer. And it has been seven years since the both of you have been together but, even today, his smile makes your heart skip a beat and makes your knees wobbly and one look into his brown eyes and you’re home.
A/N
Firstly, hi, long time.
I do not know what this is, I just typed it out and it made sense to me. It’s this disconnected-mature-love-thing going on there.
I don’t know if I will write more, this was just out of compulsion. Thank you .