Exchange fic - 'The Prince in Prague'
Title: The Prince in Prague
Pairing(s): Jaeho
Rating: PG13
Summary: Prague is new and foreign and spells a freedom that you crave, but your life has never been that simple.
Words: 3, 953
A/N: For Reece (wedspawn), written for the jaeho_exchange. Reece, I'm so glad you liked it. ♥ I just wanted to let you know, since you commented on it, Five Steps to Nowhere (that trainee fic from Jae's POV) was also written for you. ^^; I was writing both, just to try and get myself to finish one of them!
And also, a big thanks to my flist, for listening to me angst and blather about this piece, and my gorgeous betas, bel_chan and machaparfait
Prague smells different.
You notice it almost straight out of the plane, while you’re still in the airport. Airports, you’ve found, are very largely the same, except for the languages the signs are in and sometimes not even then. But despite the same-ness of the surroundings, it still smells different.
Outside the airport, you’re barraged with the feeling of foreignness… of being somewhere completely ‘else’. You jump around a lot, but it’s usually sort of somewhat familiar, with the fans and the crowds and well, sometimes it doesn’t feel so different from home.
But Prague definitely feels different. The words are strange and harsh and the people look different from you, speak differently even with their body language. You’re tired and confused from the long flight, and the five of you stick close together, taking comfort in familiarity. There are only three other staff members with you, and so you’re all carrying bags of clothes and equipment and helping to load the taxi. Here, you’re not mega stars that need bodyguards just to get out of the airport… here, you’re just people with a lot of funny shaped luggage speaking garble to the locals.
Junsu seems to be the only one with energy enough to plaster himself to the window as you drive through the dark streets. It’s raining, turning the cobbled streets dark and slick and filling every corner of the old city with mystery. Changmin doesn’t seem to care so much, plugging into his iPod and sitting back, keeping his awe for the morning when there will be light and breakfast and less exhaustion. Yoochun is asleep already, having half sleepwalked out of the airport even, his face buried in a hoodie. Jaejoong sleeps beside you too, his head resting on your shoulder and snoring ever so softly. You brush back his hair and smile fondly at his slumbering face.
Your manager gives you a displeased look, and you think about doing something, maybe waking Jae up or shifting his head, but then you realise you don’t care. You’re in a foreign country where the cab driver wouldn’t know you from any other Asian tourist, and who else is there to impress? So you ignore the look, settling back to look absently out the window until you get to the hotel.
The lobby is pleasantly cool, the furnishings interesting and old. Your manager settles the room accounts and you’re split into four rooms, two apiece. Yoochun and Jaejoong disappear into a room, whispering lowly, while Junsu peels off from you and Changmin to his own room. Yourself, you’re just glad to see a solid bed, and collapse face first into the soft covers, boneless.
Changmin unpacks his toiletries bag, going straight to brush his teeth, predicable as clockwork. You’re asleep before he gets back.
=========
Day one starts early, and first on the agenda is the music video. Changmin’s hair looks ridiculous, as your stylist and Jaejoong circle around him and twist more and more pieces up, teasing it into oblivion. Changmin bears it when the stylist does it but complains when Jaejoong so much as touches him. Yoochun’s wig looks equally stupid, though he’s pretty sure it’s not as bad as his ‘chicken’ look, and he says, in a supposedly dashing voice, he’s Captain Jack Sparrow. Junsu laughs and laughs and Changmin throws an empty tube of hair gel at him. The director arrives, and then you’re off. You and Jaejoong are coerced into carrying heavy equipment through the foreign streets, the locals staring at you unabashedly, especially Changmin and Yoochun with their strange hair and odd clothing.
The shots are halfway absurd and you don’t see how this is going to come out into anything resembling a good PV, but you’ve learnt not to question these things. You hold the lights and Junsu runs around with his iPod full blast as Yoochun stands on a garbage can and looks pensive. The locals most obviously think you’re all completely crazy, and you feel itchy and odd under their gazes. They aren’t like the fans in their blind adoration, and it’s peculiar just being some crazy foreigner.
You wonder why the company couldn’t bring over more people, as you spend the day carting around all the equipment, your already tired muscles aching somewhat under the load. Jaejoong sits up behind you on a stone wall and his fingers dig into the knots of your back while the crew take a break, the forceful prodding painful yet relieving as you feel your tensions soothed under his touch. Junsu had offered to do the same, but the boy is almost as bad as their brutal trainer, his sharp fingers digging holes into already sore flesh.
Despite Jaejoong’s efforts and all the small brushes of skin he makes sure are accidental, you’re slightly irritated for most of the day, and grateful when the director finally says the light is too dim and that it’s a wrap for the day.
You practically threaten Yoochun into swapping rooms with you, and when you slip into the room later that night, closing the door behind your back with a silent click, Jaejoong turns and sees you and gives you a sexy smirk. The pent up frustration of the day explodes and you’re on him in a second, all hands and lips and heat.
You fuck him hard and fast and it’s damn good. He bites down hard on your shoulder as he screams, and you’re glad you’ll be wearing formal shirts for all the shoots because it’s definitely going to mark. He murmurs his satisfaction and his love, holding you as you reach your own completion. The pair of you curl into a pile of exhausted limbs afterwards, nuzzling each other and sharing sloppy kisses. He laughs against your throat, inky strands of his hair plastered against your jaw line and his legs are too hot twined amongst yours. You don’t really care though, and fall asleep sweaty and too warm.
Waking up at dawn, Changmin is knocking on your door and saying that management will be round any minute now. It’s a mad scramble for clothes and propriety, and you trip out of the room, shooting Min a thankful glance as you hop down the hallway, shooting into what was meant to be your room to grab some clothes and shower. Min just rolls his eyes, poking his head in to make sure Jae is actually getting up too.
After a meeting and going over the tight schedule four times, Changmin and Yoochun get whisked away for more shooting, and the three of you are left to your own devices. You’re quietly pleased about the prospect of freedom, and begin to find normal clothes to wear while thinking about the day as a tourist ahead of you. Junsu and Jaejoong are excited, a chance to wander around without bodyguards or fear of recognition is a unique prospect for them after many years of stardom and increasing fanaticism.
Jaejoong has pulled on a cap, his face shadowed as he sidles up to you, slinging his shoulder bag over his back. Junsu is gone already, armed with a guidebook, map and boundless enthusiasm.
Be my date? Your lithe singer asks slyly, a grin on his lips, and you laugh, capturing his hand and bringing an arm around his waist to kiss him sweetly, his lips still ripe and bruised.
You leave the hotel hand in hand, and nobody blinks an eye. What a wonderful day it is, you think, stepping out into the sun and looking up at the clear blue sky above and then down at the man by your side. Jaejoong gives you a smile, and you feel like the world is at your feet.
You stroll around now vaguely familiar streets, marvelling at the architecture and the trams, blending in with the tourists in their funny shirts and vastly obvious foreignness. Jaejoong loves the trams- their smooth movements and refurbished old-world out fittings enchanting him. You ride across the city, into Old Town, and stand in the press of people just before 11 to watch the big clock, the Orloj, your guidebook says, strike the hour. You wander around the shops after that, Jaejoong hunting for trinkets and jewellery as you trail along happily, carrying bags and watching the people.
You think that maybe this is what normalcy is. Holding your lover’s hand without fear or reprisal; laughing over sandwiches in a small café where you don’t know what you’ve ordered or how much it had cost; and shopping in the markets, haggling over the price of a cheap metal pendant. There are no cameras, no fans, no one to bother or interrupt you. It’s been years since you felt this free.
Every so often, you’ll pull Jaejoong into a small alcove or down some smaller street and lean in to kiss him, drinking in his full lips and the feeling of his body against yours. Others around you may think Jae a woman, or may recognise you as both men, or maybe not notice you at all, but you don’t care, don’t care at all. The warmth in Jaejoong’s eyes every time you part is enough for you to fling your fears to the world and draw him closer.
It ends all too soon, and reality calls as you rush to make the meet point on time, landing back into your own world with a wobble as suits are divvied out and the photo shoot begins in a small, old theatre. You greet the video camera, your members welcoming you back. Even though you’ve already been working, shooting your portion of the video, working endless hours on choreography and vocals, it makes you flush warmly inside, you are so very glad to be back again. You’ve been away too long, and while they’ve managed, you know you’ve all felt a hole inside at your separation. You’re together again, and facing the world through the lens of that camera.
The puppets handed to you are weird, and Yoochun says they’re damn creepy. You agree, but Changmin and Jaejoong are enthralled. Jaejoong wants to play with them all, and the puppet master teaches you how to move the delicate bodies around, jerking their strings and making them dance… able to play God there on the stage. The knight bows forward to greet his princess and the camera’s flash blinds you for a moment, your moustached peasant falling to the ground.
You think about that peasant all afternoon, and then tell your manager you and Jaejoong are going to dinner in a place you saw that morning. You get five shocked looks in return, but you just take Jaejoong’s hand and lead him from the hotel, leaving them all behind. You eat in a restaurant you actually had spotted earlier but not thought on until you had passed it, having idly read the menu on display while Jaejoong had perused a bag shop a few doors down. There are candles on the table and Jaejoong gives you an amused look as he delicately eats a mouthful of tender duck. By the end of the admittedly delicious meal, you’re feeling sheepish. Jae’s expression is soft and fond though, and he suggests walking around in the night air for a while, obviously sensing your restlessness.
Prague is perhaps even more beautiful at night, and you feel lucky to be there. Lucky to be there, and lucky to have someone there to share it with you. Jaejoong politely asks an old couple to take a picture of you, adding to the growing collection of images on his camera of the members, the city and small, random things that your lover has found interesting. These pictures, some of them out of focus and ill-framed, are much more valuable to you than the ones you had been perfectly groomed for, posed perfectly with sharp focus and brilliant composition.
You stand on a bridge over the river and he leans on your shoulder, hands entwined and content to just be for once in your life. You feel like you never want this day to end, that you could live like this forever. Even when you are back in the hotel room, in bed with Jaejoong on your shoulder, you lie awake and stare at the ceiling, just imagining life.
=========
You’re on the streets for the photo shoot the next day, and Changmin and Jaejoong keep trying to shove each other into puddles, much to the horror of the photographer and your manager, dressed as you are in your finely pressed, very expensive tailored suits. Snorting, you pull Jae away from the youngest, shoving him to walk at the front of the group while Junsu amuses Changmin a safe distance away. Jaejoong pouts, but you just grin, and end up racing him down the street, the click of the shutter chasing after you.
They find a nice wall for you to lean against, and you lounge against it obediently, Jaejoong taking up a mocking pose on the other side of the window in the wall, trying to make you laugh. The photographer coos however, jumping up and moving his tripod back so that he can catch a photograph of both of you, just like that, and you have to keep yourself from grinning. Soon all five of your are lined up like good little chicks, all trying to keep a straight face as the shutter captures the moments in time that you know you’ll never forget.
In the car again, and Jaejoong slides into the seat beside you. He doesn’t look as he tangles his fingers with yours, palm hot against your own. You fold your fingers down around his hand and squeeze it, and he smiles into the window, leaning his shoulder into yours. His weight is solid, and he almost feels like the only real thing in the world.
When you’re all shown your next location, your eyes widen in wonderment. You’d known of course, that it was a palace, but the reality of a palace is a sight to behold. It’s old and regal and so very large and well looked after. History is cherished here in the land, the buildings, and you feel odd being there.
You can feel the warmth of your family around you, insulating you a little as you dawdle around the huge, cold room you’re shown to, peering at the ancient architecture. You’re all awed, humbled in the face of this structure, the history and memories engrained in every pane, every floorboard. Jaejoong is reverent as he sits at the piano, fingers hesitant and loving as they ease into the keys, the mellow notes resonating through your soul.
Gathering around, the five of you sing some broken lines, but feel too stupid and young to be singing your songs in this place. So Jaejoong just plays, and you just listen, and the camera clicks away.
Out in the forecourt, you play soccer and dance, playing stupid games with each other as you wait for the camera to be set up and for them to decide what they want to do. It’s fun, and you watch Yoochun picking on Junsu with a smile while Changmin whines about the heat of the sun behind you and Jaejoong calls him a big baby. That ends well, as it always does with them, and they’re chasing each other madly around one of the finely groomed topiaries, your manager yelling obscenities at them to try and control them.
Feeling pity for the already stressed man, you grab hold of Jaejoong as he dashes past, swinging him around and gripping his waist. He yelps, and you squeeze him, a suggestive slide of your hand across his cummerbund. He purrs then, giving in to your silent request, and you know you’ve promised him something in return. Changmin, having lost his playmate, goes to help Yoochun tease Junsu mercilessly. The rest of the day is playful and sweet, but Jaejoong’s gotten ideas into his head, and it’s a struggle not to be distracted by the roll of his hips and the cocky tilt of his head. The knowing look in his eyes alone is enough to unhinge you. You have to be circumspect, around these people, the crew you don’t know but come from the same rigidity that you’d hoped to leave behind. There’s only a handful of them, but it’s more than enough to stay you until they’re gone. It frustrates you though that this handful could be more restraining then the bustling square full of people that you’d kissed Jaejoong senseless among just yesterday.
At the end of the day, everyone some how decides to grab Junsu, and the singer is thrown into the air, laughing loudly as he flies. They all take turns then, and when Jaejoong goes up, he clings to your hand, afraid to fall.
=========
You’re standing on a cobbled back road, the camera down on the split level section below. Jaejoong tugs on your collar roughly, bringing your attention back to him as he fixes your tie.
He looks beautiful. Handsome. His body was made for suits, and the impeccable tailoring flatters everything that he is just as he flatters the soft, expensive fabrics. He makes them look sleek and sexy yet infinitely suave and sure. You’ve no doubt at all that he could model, that his face and smouldering eyes and affinity for the camera would have made him a hit anywhere in the world. He fits just as well here in this Parisian otherworld as he does the edgy, busy streets of Tokyo or the bustling markets of Thailand.
He smooths down your tie, pulling in your jacket and you bite your lip at the feel of his hands over your body. Drawing him back a little, against the wall and then into the small alcove of a doorway, you lean forward, bringing your faces together in a brash touch of lips, revelling in him, in the openness of it all. He grins against your lips, and you feel the flick of his tongue teasing you, his hands settling on your torso under your jacket as his touch sweeps down your chest, the action having very little to do with your wardrobe anymore.
The stolen moment breaks as Junsu calls, the camera ready, and it’s time for the five of you to act again. You think about puppets and a sharp pair of scissors, but the click of the camera reminds you of your reality, and you know you tied those strings yourself.
The day before you leave is reserved for the special album shoot, and you all don your funny outfits and you’re herded off to stand in front of various bits of interesting scenery and architecture. There’s a video camera along for the ride, as there has been for most of the trip actually, and you play in front of it like you’re meant to, teasing and baiting each other as you wait.
Jaejoong sidles up to you later while Yoochun is posing, wrinkling his nose and saying that his hair itches madly. He can’t scratch at it either, for fear of the stylist and the huge can of hairspray she’s armed with. Yours is no better and it hangs annoyingly on your forehead. You envy Junsu his short hair - not only does it look good, it’s not flopping anywhere.
It’s during Junsu’s shoot that you notice Changmin and Jaejoong talking in front of the camera not far away, and watch them out of the corner of your eye, a small smile on your lips. Jaejoong notices you, his sloe eyes catching your gaze for a split second before it returns to the camera, and as he raises his arm, looking innocently into the lens, you know his words are aimed at you. Somehow, he gets away with it, with all the world to see and Changmin laughing at the obviousness of it from the side. Any other time, you might have been annoyed at Jae, for being so blatant, but all you can do is smile, your heart and spirit boosted as you turn away and are called to your own shoot.
On the last day, you feel him wake before dawn, his body shifting on the bed and leaving it barren and empty as he crawls out of the covers. You’re half awake, disturbed by the lack of him, and muzzily raise your head when you do not hear the sounds of the bathroom.
He’s standing in the window, looking through the sheer under curtain, the dim light of the outside making him glow, otherworldly. The bed is empty without him and you feel no need to stay. Sliding free from the sheets, you stand and move up behind him, arms sliding easily around his waist in a familiar embrace. He smells of Jaejoong. No make up, no hairspray, no new clothes with strange fabrics… just Jaejoong. You drink it up, closing your eyes and focusing on feeling every part of him, while he watches the rain outside.
Do you ever wonder about what life would have been like? You ask vaguely, words pressed into the soft musk of Jaejoong’s hair. His head tilts, and his arm covers yours around his waist.
He hmms a little, knowing exactly what you’re thinking about.
Sometimes. It’s nice to think about sometimes, when it all gets a bit much. But it’s not for us. He says easily, and with conviction. You’re not quite sure you could do the same. Maybe you’re just greedy, but often you just want him to yourself. To be able to lock yourselves into a room and not leave for days, living off your love. You want to be able to walk outside and not watch every word, every movement.
Oh? You ask, your short lashes brushing down over his temples as you press your lips to his cheek.
You know you’d never be satisfied, being ordinary. He tells you and you know he’s right. You’ve spent all your life striving to be something more. You’d be bored. We wouldn’t be who we are. His logic is as simple and left-of-centre as he is himself. But it makes sense to him, and somehow to you as well. You want him, but you also want the love of the crowd, the thrill of the stage and pride in your achievements.
His lips curl, and he turns his head slightly to look at you from the corner of his eye. Besides, he says, touching your noses together. If you were ordinary, you’d never have met me. His tease is light and you grin, shutting him up with a kiss that turns playful. You end up throwing him back on the bed and making love until Yoochun bangs on the door telling you it’s time to leave.
As you stand in the airport, waiting to check your bags in, you watch the people around you not watching you. Prague is beautiful and strange, foreign and unique; and for you, represents all the parts of normality that you can’t have. You’ll miss it, the freedom you had here, but Jaejoong is right. This is not who you are. Anywhere the members are is home, but the fans and your work make up the rest of you. Maybe one day, one day when the spotlight blinds you, the fans deafen you, the music silences you… maybe then you’ll be back.
Back to face normality, to walk these cobbled streets with Jaejoong’s hand in yours, with nothing on your mind but the warmth of his touch and the softness of his smile.
Pairing(s): Jaeho
Rating: PG13
Summary: Prague is new and foreign and spells a freedom that you crave, but your life has never been that simple.
Words: 3, 953
A/N: For Reece (wedspawn), written for the jaeho_exchange. Reece, I'm so glad you liked it. ♥ I just wanted to let you know, since you commented on it, Five Steps to Nowhere (that trainee fic from Jae's POV) was also written for you. ^^; I was writing both, just to try and get myself to finish one of them!
And also, a big thanks to my flist, for listening to me angst and blather about this piece, and my gorgeous betas, bel_chan and machaparfait
Prague smells different.
You notice it almost straight out of the plane, while you’re still in the airport. Airports, you’ve found, are very largely the same, except for the languages the signs are in and sometimes not even then. But despite the same-ness of the surroundings, it still smells different.
Outside the airport, you’re barraged with the feeling of foreignness… of being somewhere completely ‘else’. You jump around a lot, but it’s usually sort of somewhat familiar, with the fans and the crowds and well, sometimes it doesn’t feel so different from home.
But Prague definitely feels different. The words are strange and harsh and the people look different from you, speak differently even with their body language. You’re tired and confused from the long flight, and the five of you stick close together, taking comfort in familiarity. There are only three other staff members with you, and so you’re all carrying bags of clothes and equipment and helping to load the taxi. Here, you’re not mega stars that need bodyguards just to get out of the airport… here, you’re just people with a lot of funny shaped luggage speaking garble to the locals.
Junsu seems to be the only one with energy enough to plaster himself to the window as you drive through the dark streets. It’s raining, turning the cobbled streets dark and slick and filling every corner of the old city with mystery. Changmin doesn’t seem to care so much, plugging into his iPod and sitting back, keeping his awe for the morning when there will be light and breakfast and less exhaustion. Yoochun is asleep already, having half sleepwalked out of the airport even, his face buried in a hoodie. Jaejoong sleeps beside you too, his head resting on your shoulder and snoring ever so softly. You brush back his hair and smile fondly at his slumbering face.
Your manager gives you a displeased look, and you think about doing something, maybe waking Jae up or shifting his head, but then you realise you don’t care. You’re in a foreign country where the cab driver wouldn’t know you from any other Asian tourist, and who else is there to impress? So you ignore the look, settling back to look absently out the window until you get to the hotel.
The lobby is pleasantly cool, the furnishings interesting and old. Your manager settles the room accounts and you’re split into four rooms, two apiece. Yoochun and Jaejoong disappear into a room, whispering lowly, while Junsu peels off from you and Changmin to his own room. Yourself, you’re just glad to see a solid bed, and collapse face first into the soft covers, boneless.
Changmin unpacks his toiletries bag, going straight to brush his teeth, predicable as clockwork. You’re asleep before he gets back.
=========
Day one starts early, and first on the agenda is the music video. Changmin’s hair looks ridiculous, as your stylist and Jaejoong circle around him and twist more and more pieces up, teasing it into oblivion. Changmin bears it when the stylist does it but complains when Jaejoong so much as touches him. Yoochun’s wig looks equally stupid, though he’s pretty sure it’s not as bad as his ‘chicken’ look, and he says, in a supposedly dashing voice, he’s Captain Jack Sparrow. Junsu laughs and laughs and Changmin throws an empty tube of hair gel at him. The director arrives, and then you’re off. You and Jaejoong are coerced into carrying heavy equipment through the foreign streets, the locals staring at you unabashedly, especially Changmin and Yoochun with their strange hair and odd clothing.
The shots are halfway absurd and you don’t see how this is going to come out into anything resembling a good PV, but you’ve learnt not to question these things. You hold the lights and Junsu runs around with his iPod full blast as Yoochun stands on a garbage can and looks pensive. The locals most obviously think you’re all completely crazy, and you feel itchy and odd under their gazes. They aren’t like the fans in their blind adoration, and it’s peculiar just being some crazy foreigner.
You wonder why the company couldn’t bring over more people, as you spend the day carting around all the equipment, your already tired muscles aching somewhat under the load. Jaejoong sits up behind you on a stone wall and his fingers dig into the knots of your back while the crew take a break, the forceful prodding painful yet relieving as you feel your tensions soothed under his touch. Junsu had offered to do the same, but the boy is almost as bad as their brutal trainer, his sharp fingers digging holes into already sore flesh.
Despite Jaejoong’s efforts and all the small brushes of skin he makes sure are accidental, you’re slightly irritated for most of the day, and grateful when the director finally says the light is too dim and that it’s a wrap for the day.
You practically threaten Yoochun into swapping rooms with you, and when you slip into the room later that night, closing the door behind your back with a silent click, Jaejoong turns and sees you and gives you a sexy smirk. The pent up frustration of the day explodes and you’re on him in a second, all hands and lips and heat.
You fuck him hard and fast and it’s damn good. He bites down hard on your shoulder as he screams, and you’re glad you’ll be wearing formal shirts for all the shoots because it’s definitely going to mark. He murmurs his satisfaction and his love, holding you as you reach your own completion. The pair of you curl into a pile of exhausted limbs afterwards, nuzzling each other and sharing sloppy kisses. He laughs against your throat, inky strands of his hair plastered against your jaw line and his legs are too hot twined amongst yours. You don’t really care though, and fall asleep sweaty and too warm.
Waking up at dawn, Changmin is knocking on your door and saying that management will be round any minute now. It’s a mad scramble for clothes and propriety, and you trip out of the room, shooting Min a thankful glance as you hop down the hallway, shooting into what was meant to be your room to grab some clothes and shower. Min just rolls his eyes, poking his head in to make sure Jae is actually getting up too.
After a meeting and going over the tight schedule four times, Changmin and Yoochun get whisked away for more shooting, and the three of you are left to your own devices. You’re quietly pleased about the prospect of freedom, and begin to find normal clothes to wear while thinking about the day as a tourist ahead of you. Junsu and Jaejoong are excited, a chance to wander around without bodyguards or fear of recognition is a unique prospect for them after many years of stardom and increasing fanaticism.
Jaejoong has pulled on a cap, his face shadowed as he sidles up to you, slinging his shoulder bag over his back. Junsu is gone already, armed with a guidebook, map and boundless enthusiasm.
Be my date? Your lithe singer asks slyly, a grin on his lips, and you laugh, capturing his hand and bringing an arm around his waist to kiss him sweetly, his lips still ripe and bruised.
You leave the hotel hand in hand, and nobody blinks an eye. What a wonderful day it is, you think, stepping out into the sun and looking up at the clear blue sky above and then down at the man by your side. Jaejoong gives you a smile, and you feel like the world is at your feet.
You stroll around now vaguely familiar streets, marvelling at the architecture and the trams, blending in with the tourists in their funny shirts and vastly obvious foreignness. Jaejoong loves the trams- their smooth movements and refurbished old-world out fittings enchanting him. You ride across the city, into Old Town, and stand in the press of people just before 11 to watch the big clock, the Orloj, your guidebook says, strike the hour. You wander around the shops after that, Jaejoong hunting for trinkets and jewellery as you trail along happily, carrying bags and watching the people.
You think that maybe this is what normalcy is. Holding your lover’s hand without fear or reprisal; laughing over sandwiches in a small café where you don’t know what you’ve ordered or how much it had cost; and shopping in the markets, haggling over the price of a cheap metal pendant. There are no cameras, no fans, no one to bother or interrupt you. It’s been years since you felt this free.
Every so often, you’ll pull Jaejoong into a small alcove or down some smaller street and lean in to kiss him, drinking in his full lips and the feeling of his body against yours. Others around you may think Jae a woman, or may recognise you as both men, or maybe not notice you at all, but you don’t care, don’t care at all. The warmth in Jaejoong’s eyes every time you part is enough for you to fling your fears to the world and draw him closer.
It ends all too soon, and reality calls as you rush to make the meet point on time, landing back into your own world with a wobble as suits are divvied out and the photo shoot begins in a small, old theatre. You greet the video camera, your members welcoming you back. Even though you’ve already been working, shooting your portion of the video, working endless hours on choreography and vocals, it makes you flush warmly inside, you are so very glad to be back again. You’ve been away too long, and while they’ve managed, you know you’ve all felt a hole inside at your separation. You’re together again, and facing the world through the lens of that camera.
The puppets handed to you are weird, and Yoochun says they’re damn creepy. You agree, but Changmin and Jaejoong are enthralled. Jaejoong wants to play with them all, and the puppet master teaches you how to move the delicate bodies around, jerking their strings and making them dance… able to play God there on the stage. The knight bows forward to greet his princess and the camera’s flash blinds you for a moment, your moustached peasant falling to the ground.
You think about that peasant all afternoon, and then tell your manager you and Jaejoong are going to dinner in a place you saw that morning. You get five shocked looks in return, but you just take Jaejoong’s hand and lead him from the hotel, leaving them all behind. You eat in a restaurant you actually had spotted earlier but not thought on until you had passed it, having idly read the menu on display while Jaejoong had perused a bag shop a few doors down. There are candles on the table and Jaejoong gives you an amused look as he delicately eats a mouthful of tender duck. By the end of the admittedly delicious meal, you’re feeling sheepish. Jae’s expression is soft and fond though, and he suggests walking around in the night air for a while, obviously sensing your restlessness.
Prague is perhaps even more beautiful at night, and you feel lucky to be there. Lucky to be there, and lucky to have someone there to share it with you. Jaejoong politely asks an old couple to take a picture of you, adding to the growing collection of images on his camera of the members, the city and small, random things that your lover has found interesting. These pictures, some of them out of focus and ill-framed, are much more valuable to you than the ones you had been perfectly groomed for, posed perfectly with sharp focus and brilliant composition.
You stand on a bridge over the river and he leans on your shoulder, hands entwined and content to just be for once in your life. You feel like you never want this day to end, that you could live like this forever. Even when you are back in the hotel room, in bed with Jaejoong on your shoulder, you lie awake and stare at the ceiling, just imagining life.
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You’re on the streets for the photo shoot the next day, and Changmin and Jaejoong keep trying to shove each other into puddles, much to the horror of the photographer and your manager, dressed as you are in your finely pressed, very expensive tailored suits. Snorting, you pull Jae away from the youngest, shoving him to walk at the front of the group while Junsu amuses Changmin a safe distance away. Jaejoong pouts, but you just grin, and end up racing him down the street, the click of the shutter chasing after you.
They find a nice wall for you to lean against, and you lounge against it obediently, Jaejoong taking up a mocking pose on the other side of the window in the wall, trying to make you laugh. The photographer coos however, jumping up and moving his tripod back so that he can catch a photograph of both of you, just like that, and you have to keep yourself from grinning. Soon all five of your are lined up like good little chicks, all trying to keep a straight face as the shutter captures the moments in time that you know you’ll never forget.
In the car again, and Jaejoong slides into the seat beside you. He doesn’t look as he tangles his fingers with yours, palm hot against your own. You fold your fingers down around his hand and squeeze it, and he smiles into the window, leaning his shoulder into yours. His weight is solid, and he almost feels like the only real thing in the world.
When you’re all shown your next location, your eyes widen in wonderment. You’d known of course, that it was a palace, but the reality of a palace is a sight to behold. It’s old and regal and so very large and well looked after. History is cherished here in the land, the buildings, and you feel odd being there.
You can feel the warmth of your family around you, insulating you a little as you dawdle around the huge, cold room you’re shown to, peering at the ancient architecture. You’re all awed, humbled in the face of this structure, the history and memories engrained in every pane, every floorboard. Jaejoong is reverent as he sits at the piano, fingers hesitant and loving as they ease into the keys, the mellow notes resonating through your soul.
Gathering around, the five of you sing some broken lines, but feel too stupid and young to be singing your songs in this place. So Jaejoong just plays, and you just listen, and the camera clicks away.
Out in the forecourt, you play soccer and dance, playing stupid games with each other as you wait for the camera to be set up and for them to decide what they want to do. It’s fun, and you watch Yoochun picking on Junsu with a smile while Changmin whines about the heat of the sun behind you and Jaejoong calls him a big baby. That ends well, as it always does with them, and they’re chasing each other madly around one of the finely groomed topiaries, your manager yelling obscenities at them to try and control them.
Feeling pity for the already stressed man, you grab hold of Jaejoong as he dashes past, swinging him around and gripping his waist. He yelps, and you squeeze him, a suggestive slide of your hand across his cummerbund. He purrs then, giving in to your silent request, and you know you’ve promised him something in return. Changmin, having lost his playmate, goes to help Yoochun tease Junsu mercilessly. The rest of the day is playful and sweet, but Jaejoong’s gotten ideas into his head, and it’s a struggle not to be distracted by the roll of his hips and the cocky tilt of his head. The knowing look in his eyes alone is enough to unhinge you. You have to be circumspect, around these people, the crew you don’t know but come from the same rigidity that you’d hoped to leave behind. There’s only a handful of them, but it’s more than enough to stay you until they’re gone. It frustrates you though that this handful could be more restraining then the bustling square full of people that you’d kissed Jaejoong senseless among just yesterday.
At the end of the day, everyone some how decides to grab Junsu, and the singer is thrown into the air, laughing loudly as he flies. They all take turns then, and when Jaejoong goes up, he clings to your hand, afraid to fall.
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You’re standing on a cobbled back road, the camera down on the split level section below. Jaejoong tugs on your collar roughly, bringing your attention back to him as he fixes your tie.
He looks beautiful. Handsome. His body was made for suits, and the impeccable tailoring flatters everything that he is just as he flatters the soft, expensive fabrics. He makes them look sleek and sexy yet infinitely suave and sure. You’ve no doubt at all that he could model, that his face and smouldering eyes and affinity for the camera would have made him a hit anywhere in the world. He fits just as well here in this Parisian otherworld as he does the edgy, busy streets of Tokyo or the bustling markets of Thailand.
He smooths down your tie, pulling in your jacket and you bite your lip at the feel of his hands over your body. Drawing him back a little, against the wall and then into the small alcove of a doorway, you lean forward, bringing your faces together in a brash touch of lips, revelling in him, in the openness of it all. He grins against your lips, and you feel the flick of his tongue teasing you, his hands settling on your torso under your jacket as his touch sweeps down your chest, the action having very little to do with your wardrobe anymore.
The stolen moment breaks as Junsu calls, the camera ready, and it’s time for the five of you to act again. You think about puppets and a sharp pair of scissors, but the click of the camera reminds you of your reality, and you know you tied those strings yourself.
The day before you leave is reserved for the special album shoot, and you all don your funny outfits and you’re herded off to stand in front of various bits of interesting scenery and architecture. There’s a video camera along for the ride, as there has been for most of the trip actually, and you play in front of it like you’re meant to, teasing and baiting each other as you wait.
Jaejoong sidles up to you later while Yoochun is posing, wrinkling his nose and saying that his hair itches madly. He can’t scratch at it either, for fear of the stylist and the huge can of hairspray she’s armed with. Yours is no better and it hangs annoyingly on your forehead. You envy Junsu his short hair - not only does it look good, it’s not flopping anywhere.
It’s during Junsu’s shoot that you notice Changmin and Jaejoong talking in front of the camera not far away, and watch them out of the corner of your eye, a small smile on your lips. Jaejoong notices you, his sloe eyes catching your gaze for a split second before it returns to the camera, and as he raises his arm, looking innocently into the lens, you know his words are aimed at you. Somehow, he gets away with it, with all the world to see and Changmin laughing at the obviousness of it from the side. Any other time, you might have been annoyed at Jae, for being so blatant, but all you can do is smile, your heart and spirit boosted as you turn away and are called to your own shoot.
On the last day, you feel him wake before dawn, his body shifting on the bed and leaving it barren and empty as he crawls out of the covers. You’re half awake, disturbed by the lack of him, and muzzily raise your head when you do not hear the sounds of the bathroom.
He’s standing in the window, looking through the sheer under curtain, the dim light of the outside making him glow, otherworldly. The bed is empty without him and you feel no need to stay. Sliding free from the sheets, you stand and move up behind him, arms sliding easily around his waist in a familiar embrace. He smells of Jaejoong. No make up, no hairspray, no new clothes with strange fabrics… just Jaejoong. You drink it up, closing your eyes and focusing on feeling every part of him, while he watches the rain outside.
Do you ever wonder about what life would have been like? You ask vaguely, words pressed into the soft musk of Jaejoong’s hair. His head tilts, and his arm covers yours around his waist.
He hmms a little, knowing exactly what you’re thinking about.
Sometimes. It’s nice to think about sometimes, when it all gets a bit much. But it’s not for us. He says easily, and with conviction. You’re not quite sure you could do the same. Maybe you’re just greedy, but often you just want him to yourself. To be able to lock yourselves into a room and not leave for days, living off your love. You want to be able to walk outside and not watch every word, every movement.
Oh? You ask, your short lashes brushing down over his temples as you press your lips to his cheek.
You know you’d never be satisfied, being ordinary. He tells you and you know he’s right. You’ve spent all your life striving to be something more. You’d be bored. We wouldn’t be who we are. His logic is as simple and left-of-centre as he is himself. But it makes sense to him, and somehow to you as well. You want him, but you also want the love of the crowd, the thrill of the stage and pride in your achievements.
His lips curl, and he turns his head slightly to look at you from the corner of his eye. Besides, he says, touching your noses together. If you were ordinary, you’d never have met me. His tease is light and you grin, shutting him up with a kiss that turns playful. You end up throwing him back on the bed and making love until Yoochun bangs on the door telling you it’s time to leave.
As you stand in the airport, waiting to check your bags in, you watch the people around you not watching you. Prague is beautiful and strange, foreign and unique; and for you, represents all the parts of normality that you can’t have. You’ll miss it, the freedom you had here, but Jaejoong is right. This is not who you are. Anywhere the members are is home, but the fans and your work make up the rest of you. Maybe one day, one day when the spotlight blinds you, the fans deafen you, the music silences you… maybe then you’ll be back.
Back to face normality, to walk these cobbled streets with Jaejoong’s hand in yours, with nothing on your mind but the warmth of his touch and the softness of his smile.