meet you there (At the End of the World) - Part 2
<- Go back to first part.
“They’re going inland,” Yunho said when they came back. The people were milling, loading stuff - supplies - into their cars and trucks, a fierce determination around them. Instinct. Survival of the fittest, or those that cared enough. “They figure they can outstay the rain there. Do you want to go with them?” Outback Australia wasn’t the Sahara, but it was just as unforgiving, and there would not be a cloud in the sky there.
Jaejoong looked out over Yunho’s shoulder to the people. Looked at the way their faces were set with grim resolve, the way they carried their hope on their sleeves. His focus moved back to Yunho, and he saw something else there.
A willingness to follow him.
Jaejoong could see, right there in Yunho’s face that Yunho would go wherever he decided to go. And he knew just as instinctively that the others would fall in line after that. Shifting his weight to one hand, Jaejoong reached up to cup Yunho’s cheek, touching him fondly.
Why didn’t I meet him earlier, have more time? A part of him asked, but he knew it to be a futile, useless question. It was luck he found Yunho when he did, and besides, there was nothing more he could do about past regrets.
“No,” he said, and skimmed the pad of his thumb over Yunho’s cheekbone. Yunho nodded, ever so slightly, accepting. He never asked why, but Jaejoong supplied the reason anyway. “A hole in the desert somewhere… living for hope and fear. No…” He paused, eyes turning to the roadside and the dry, wilted bushes there. “We fucked ourselves over. It’s time to move on.”
Yunho and Changmin waved to the people as they drove past with Yoochun at the wheel. They were heading in opposite directions, one way to hope of life, the other to the hope of living. Yunho was not sure he knew which way was which.
They kept driving north, a long stretch of highway surrounded by blackened bush and signs for brumbies. Jaejoong looked out the window, watching the silver gum trees fly past and fancied he could see the silvery shadows of horses galloping through them.
+
“Look, bananas.” Junsu’s statement was somewhat full of wonder and all of them turned to look out the window, even Yoochun who was driving. They’d seen pastures, seen cows and sheep and horses, seen the animals roaming around their closed off pastures like there wasn’t a worry in the world. For them though, there probably wasn’t. So long as there was grass on the ground and water in their ponds, they didn’t care about what problems the world had. They’d just been something to look at for five boys in a car on a long, empty road.
But bananas were different.
It didn’t take much, just a few significant looks shared around the car, and then they were pulled over beside the fence, the five of them clambering out.
None of them could say they had any fruit picking experience, but it wasn’t exactly rocket science.
Changmin emptied his backpack, and they picked bananas. It took a bit of effort and creative force to hoist one of them up towards the leafy tops of the trees. It was Yoochun that went up first, deemed to be the lightest of them all. He struggled for balance, and then came up against the other obstacle of pest control. The large bunch of very ripe (perhaps too ripe) looking fruits was protected by a plastic net of some sort. Frowning, and wobbling on his groaning support, he managed to pull it open and off, and loose a large bunch of bananas.
Junsu went up next, after they’d found a suitable (short) tree. He had slightly more difficulty with the net and fell once before getting the bunch down. They moved forward again, and were working on another tree when Jaejoong abruptly stopped pulling his weight (or rather, holding Yoochun’s weight), causing the picking to pause as Yoochun cursed at him and rubbed his head.
Jaejoong wasn’t paying attention however, Yunho either, the pair of them staring off to the right. The others turned to look and found a farmer standing not too far off, on the porch of a small house next to a dirt road that marked the end of the banana field.
His name was Dan, he told Changmin, and they were welcome to take as many bananas as they liked.
“’S not like anyone else’s gonna be eating them. So go righttahead boys.”
He helped them pull down another bunch, and using his large, long clippers was a lot easier then balancing Junsu on someone’s shoulders. Dan didn’t ask them where they were from as they carried the bananas back to the car, or where they were going. Didn’t say much at all, really.
Before they left, he gave them a small box of oranges, large and round and ripe.
Junsu watched him from the window of the car as they pulled away. The man’s lone figure raised his hand in a farewell gesture, before he was enveloped by dust and the strong sunshine.
+
The house was big. Glass and white painted wood, it was no doubt the remnant of some rich magnate, who would have used it to get away from it all. It stood up on the short cliff over the beach they’d pulled up at, the structure gleaming in the light as they squinted up at it. It was like some magical, shining castle, just waiting for the fairytale to begin.
Jaejoong’s toes curled into the sand and he studied the surroundings as Junsu and Changmin began to climb up the small path to the house, scrabbling over stones and pulling at shrubs. It had been a long time since the path had been used.
They left their car on the opposite rise, abandoned.
Getting rid of the alarms was easily done, prizing the contraptions from the wall and yanking out the wires. It wasn’t as if the police would be out to see who disturbed this lost sanctum - this place was forgotten by the world, too busy with its own problems to care anymore.
They walked through the wooden-panelled hallway and out into a sweeping room of white and timber. It was simple and clean and the most serene room Yunho had ever seen. He wondered if the owner had appreciated it, had spent time here and relaxed here and valued it for the haven it was.
Yoochun walked out to the balcony, twisting the locks before throwing open the wide glass doors and letting the sea breeze sweep through the empty rooms.
“It’s beautiful,” Jaejoong whispered, stepping out and over the stained wooden boards to look out over the vast ocean. Yoochun made some sort of noise, perhaps derisive, perhaps not, and leant forward to rest his chin on his folded arms.
+
They sprawled through the house, claiming it as their own. It was beautiful and the kind of thing they’d only ever seen on TV… they felt like liars pretending to live there, but in the end, wasn’t that what they were? It was easy to stay there though, like entering a limbo where the days and nights merged together and time had no meaning anymore. Where they weren’t just waiting anymore.
“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Junsu said, lying across the soft white rug and scrunching his fingers into the luxurious fabric.
“What is?” Changmin asked, eyeing the older boy lazily.
“This place. All of the work and sacrifice to find and create this little piece of heaven… and it’ll all be put to waste.” He rolled over, staring at the ceiling. “It’s just sad.”
Changmin was silent for a long while, and Junsu had almost fallen asleep when he replied.
“This place will still be here. It will survive, for a while at least. It’s just that there will be no one left to enjoy it.” Junsu looked up at him, meeting the studious young man’s eyes, and wished that he’d fallen asleep and missed those softly spoken words.
Suddenly it felt like the whole thing was crashing down on him and all the things he didn’t want to think about welled up in his mind, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He had to bite his lip, look away, to stop Changmin from seeing the dampness that collected in his eyes.
“Don’t -” Changmin began, feeling guilty for being too honest with his thoughts. It wasn’t like any of them needed any reminding. But he faltered after that first word. He was clumsy with soft words and didn’t know what to say to make it better again.
“I… I have a twin. Junho. My hyung. He was in America when the gas was dropped. He was about to start University in California. His dream, not mine, so I never thought about going.” And then his breath hitched and he stop again, collecting himself. Changmin remained silent, still, letting him release because there wasn’t much else he could do. He already knew how the story ended, and Changmin thought of his own sister, trapped in an apartment in Korea until her body rotted.
“I saw it on the news, you know? I saw the satellite pictures they got, saw all the bodies… just… lying there.” He swallowed, hard. “It was horrific. I remember just going blank for a while, and then my mother crying and crying . And I knew, I knew Junho was dead and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.” Junsu turned his head, burying it into the rug for a moment before restlessly rolling over, hand hiding his face from the light and Changmin.
“I don’t know. Everything… it all just seemed jumbled up. All I could think about was Junho, but then they started to realise it wasn’t going away… that it was going to move with the weather. The woman next door started screaming, and Dad was throwing us in the car to go to the airport.”
There wasn’t any need to continue, and Changmin could imagine what had happened after that. They’d heard about the utter chaos at the airports, the panicked crowds acting like so many scared sheep, ready to trample and push whoever they needed to in order to find a way out. Not that it mattered much in the end. A few more weeks, that was all.
Changmin felt the memories and the silence between them creep down his back, making his hair stand on end. Useless words itched at his throat, and he found a few of them spilling out unbidden.
“At least it was painless,” he said. Junsu moved his hand slightly, looking up at Changmin with one eye for a while. The sheen in his eyes was gone; the release of talking about it, of saying Junho’s name aloud taking out some of the pain and replacing it instead with weariness and some kind of acceptance.
“At least it will be,” Junsu agreed.
+
There was a radio in the house. Actually, it would have been insulting to call the huge entertainment system set up a mere ‘radio’, but somewhere behind the slick, sleek interface was the dinky regular parts of a radio. There wasn’t much to listen to on it, hadn’t been for some time with all the stations slowly slipping from the air as one by one they gave up. One or two remained however, and there was some guy in Sydney still broadcasting. Yunho couldn’t really say how he kept the relay up and going so far out of the city, but in the end it didn’t really matter how he did it.
The guy’s name was Tee Taylor. Or at least that’s what he called himself. It sounded like a daft name, but then again people called their kids daft things.
Tee played music sometimes, often weird old stuff from the 50s or something. It was nothing that any of them recognized at least, but it left them feeling odd and displaced. The newer songs, the ones that they knew from hearing on the radio in times past when they were normal and things were just the way they were meant to be - to those they sometimes sung along.
Junsu could sing, they found out. He had a beautiful, unique voice that soared. He and Jaejoong harmonized, their voices melding effortlessly, and Yunho wondered aloud if either of them had ever considered being singers.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve always loved singing. I might have tried out for one of the entertainment companies. But they are so hard to get into.” Junsu stopped abruptly there, face screwing up as he remembers that it wasn’t ‘are’ anymore, but ‘were’ instead, and knew that it was just another dream unfulfilled.
“I left home when I was fourteen,” Jaejoong told them, voice coming into being unexpectedly. They all looked at him, but he was staring out the window with that glassy-eyed look that meant he was somewhere else entirely. “I wanted to be a singer. That’s how I got to Seoul.” It’s no wonder then that he doesn’t even have high school English, Yunho thought to himself inanely. He wondered what had happened in Seoul to make Jaejoong stop wanting to sing. Because the idea that he hadn’t been able to make it seemed silly; Jaejoong probably would have done whatever it took.
After that, nobody spoke for a while, the sound of the music filling the room and sounding wildly inappropriate.
Despite the mixed feelings evoked by the variety of music that Tee selected, they perhaps felt the most odd when Tee just talked. They were out in the middle of no where, and the disembodied voice of Tee was like a reminder that there were actually other people still out there.
A reminder that they weren’t alone at the end of the world.
+
Changmin found Jaejoong in the kitchen, cutting up pieces of orange. His lips and fingers were stained with the juice, and he looked so perfectly normal that Changmin felt like crying. Instead, he came up behind the older man and wrapped his arms around Jaejoong’s waist, like he’d seen Yunho do before. Jaejoong paused in his movements for a moment, before continuing. He hummed as he cut, and Changmin could feel and hear the deep vibrations as he pressed his cheek to Jaejoong’s back, the sound somehow reassuring. He closed his eyes, and imagined that this was the world.
The peace was disturbed as Jaejoong’s fingers stilled, the knife resting, immobile, on the cutting board. He leant against the bench for a while, feeling Changmin’s solid weight against his back, feeling the warmth of the taller boy and staring out the wide windows to the sea. There were no signs of clouds. Not yet, not yet.
He turned, eventually, catching Changmin in his arms and pressing a piece of orange to the lips of the other. Changmin opened his eyes and took the offering, lips curling around Jaejoong’s fingers as well as the fruit.
“Please…” he murmured, ripe explosions of orange filling his mouth, sliding down his throat. “Please…”
And then Jaejoong’s lips were against his, a rush of something warm shooting up his spine at the contact.
He didn’t think he’d ever felt so much from a kiss before, had ever felt someone’s skin with the intensity and focus that he now touched Jaejoong with. It was a hunger, a deep desire that roared to life from a place he hadn’t known had existed inside him.
A desire to know this. To be touched. To be known. To be loved. By anyone. Just once.
He couldn’t stop, even as he felt himself devouring Jaejoong in any way he could find possible. The slices of orange scattered and fell to the ground, a different sort of offering laid out over the cool marble.
There were no words between them as Jaejoong threaded his fingers though Changmin’s hair, guiding him slowly to all the things Changmin wanted to experience, steady fingers and sure hands acting like a lifeline.
His skin was smooth, soft and pliable as Changmin’s fingers clutched at every part of him, pulling at the soft fabrics that covered Jaejoong’s body, clumsy but reverent in his actions.
It was messy and off kilter, desperate and sad and sweet, but it was beautiful. And after, when Changmin cried, Jaejoong just held him.
Hours later, Yunho found them on the kitchen floor, hiding from the rays of sun behind the kitchen island. They were both half naked, with Changmin lying on Jaejoong’s chest as the elder ran his fingers through his hair.
For a long while Yunho just looked down at them silently, watching the movement of Jaejoong’s hand and recalling the feeling of that same hand moving through his own hair.
The shuffle of his feet on tiles made Jaejoong look up at him. The young man’s wide, dark eyes held no guilt, nor any real surprise at Yunho’s presence. Under his calm, steady gaze any recriminations Yunho felt surfacing slowly faded. His eyes flickered down to Changmin’s peaceful face, blotchy cheeks and damp lashes pulling away the world-weary cynicism that had hung over the young man like a protective shroud ever since they’d met. Without it, all Yunho saw was a boy; a boy who was just as lost as they all were.
Sighing, Yunho found himself sliding down against the side of the island, coming to sit beside Jaejoong on his other side.
“Can I cry too?” Yunho asked. Changmin snorted, and then snuffled, and then laughed. He pulled himself upwards and off Jaejoong, resting back against the island as well.
Jaejoong let him go, and turned to Yunho. His face held none of the mirth Changmin’s did, and he put his hand on top of Yunho’s on the other’s knee.
“If you want,” he said. Yunho’s hand turned over, lacing their fingers together. “It’s okay to cry sometimes.” Jaejoong added quietly, eyes moving from his left to his right and back again between the two proud young men on either side of him.
“Yeah?” Yunho half asked, half stated. He felt Jaejoong squeeze his hand, and he returned the pressure.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve never cried,” Changmin remarked, examining the cupboard door in front of him.
Jaejoong’s lips tilted up slightly, and his head fell back to rest against the polished marble. His free hand came down on Changmin’s knee, patting it. Both Changmin and Yunho watched as his eyes slid closed, his chest rising and falling in a contented sigh.
“For a while now, I’ve haven’t felt the need to.”
+
Sometimes, they watched movies.
The movies didn’t have subtitles, of course. Well, some had German or French ones, but they were of even less use to them. But they watched them anyway, laid sprawled across each other on the couch and rug. They watched in silence. Neither of the English speakers tried to explain what was going on, and none of the others asked for an explanation. Jaejoong stretched, hugging Yunho’s leg close as he rubbed his cheek into the soft cotton of Yunho’s pants, and wondered if this was somehow profane. If watching movies while waiting for the world to end was wonderfully ironical or just plain stupid.
But… it was… nice. Just to be.
It was nice, to be with others. To be able to lie with his head in Yunho’s lap, to absently touch Changmin’s hair, to nudge Junsu’s shoulder with his foot, or pretend to step on Yoochun’s stomach as he brought back banana’s for them to eat.
It was nice, to be able to forget, for a moment, and just be carefree.
It was nice, to wander down the craggy path to the beach, slipping and sliding, grabbing each other for balance and tumbling out onto the shore.
It was nice, to run after Yoochun, tackling him from behind and tumbling them both into the sand. It was nice, to hear Junsu’s war cry and Changmin’s cry of surprise as he was splashed with salty water. It was nice, to play with the waves and each other, to fall back into the ocean and squint up at the sky to just see clear, brilliant blue without wondering when the clouds would come.
It was nice, to have two arms to circle his waist, to feel warmth at his back and know there was someone there, that the rumble of momentary contentment that came from that chest was not at all faked.
It was nice to just be, to enjoy and to forget for a while.
+
“What’s one thing you love to do?” Yunho had asked them all, one morning.
“What is this, 20 questions?” Changmin said back, rolling his eyes. Yoochun smacked the back of his head.
“Soccer,” Junsu piped up, before Yoochun got a chance to retort verbally, cutting off the impending squabble. “I love to play soccer.”
Jaejoong nods, thoughtfully, as if he’d known all along. Yunho looks at him then, eyebrow raised.
“I always enjoyed cooking. And singing.” The odd concoctions that Jaejoong had been creating for them from canned goods somewhat made sense with the answer, but, well, it had been nice to have one among them that could actually boil water.
“Composing music,” was Yoochun’s answer, sounding wistful. He’d said as much, not so long ago, while talking about dreams that never were. “The one thing I wished I could have done - made a song for someone to sing.”
They all turn to look at Changmin, who sighed. “I like watching people.” He got a few odd looks, and shrugged. “I like thinking about who they might be, what they’re doing, what they’re thinking,” he explained.
“What about you?” Jaejoong asked Yunho, leaning on his shoulder and looking at Yunho sideways. Yunho smiled a little, leaning back against the other boy.
“Dancing,” he said, and Jaejoong could hear the love in his voice.
That evening, Jaejoong pulled all the paper he could find in the house into the kitchen and sat at the island there with a look of determination, a roll of masking tape and a black marker.
The next morning, Junsu woke up when someone hit him in the face with something light but kind of hard. He found a lumpy, yellowish ‘soccer ball’ with designs in black marker on it rolling beside his bed and Jaejoong standing over him with a smile.
They played soccer on the beach all morning, before coming back to the house where Jaejoong set to making an ill-conceived feast while Yoochun sat in the kitchen, keeping him company and scribbling on left over scraps of paper.
After lunch, Jaejoong and Junsu sat down to decipher the scribbles, and after a lot of false starts and some laughing, they sang a song that Jaejoong gave the title, ‘Love, goodbye love.’ And then they sang it again, with Changmin and Yunho joining in at the chorus, and Yoochun began to cry.
That night, when they got sick of the radio and Tee and the world, they put on CDs from the rack beside the entertainment system. Junsu found an older compilation CD of dance songs from the early ‘90s, and Jaejoong shoved Yunho up from the couch.
Yunho danced with control, just like Jaejoong thought he would. But he was beautiful when he danced, and his face came alive.
After a few songs, Junsu joined him, dancing around the living room, bare toes curling into the plush carpet as his hips twisted and his body swayed.
Yoochun got up after a song, taking one of Junsu’s outstretched hands and dancing around him. He couldn’t dance as well as Junsu, but it didn’t matter. And then Yunho slowed his movements, and reached down to pull Jaejoong up. Jaejoong protested all the way, insecure without a crowded push of bodies around him. He tried to run away from Yunho’s hands as he pulled Jaejoong close and forced him to dance but in the end he surrendered, and Yunho grinned in satisfaction as Jaejoong moved somewhat clumsily beside him.
Changmin watched them as they danced, his foot tapping to the beat absently, and smiled.
+
Yunho woke up to dim moonlight and found that Jaejoong wasn’t there. The floorboards felt cool under his feet as he slipped out of the room and down the stairs, trying not to make them creak.
Even before he got down to the bottom, he could see Jaejoong, a dark silhouette outlined against the wide glass doors, staring out to sea. He had one hand up on the cool pane, like he was trying to touch the sky.
Jaejoong didn’t turn as Yunho approached, and Yunho hung back for a while, watching him. He wanted to reach out and touch Jaejoong but for some reason he was hesitant.
How long have I know this man? He thought to himself suddenly. It’s not something he’d really thought about much. The fact that he was in a house with four other boys he doesn’t really know, trying to live until the end of the world. He’s kissed Jaejoong, held him, fucked him, eaten with him, danced with him… but did any of that mean anything?
“It’s a full moon.” The words startled him, so loud and stark in the darkness. His eyes automatically flicked to look beyond Jaejoong’s figure, and he looked out to see the moon and its watery reflection.
“So it is,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Jaejoong said after some time in silence. Yunho just nodded, and so the shorter boy took his hand and led him out through the doors and down the little path which was even harder to navigate by night then it is by day. He led him down to the edge of the water, until the waves tickled their toes.
The moon was somehow bigger then it had seemed from inside, hanging up in the midnight sky like a lantern.
Jaejoong looked good by moonlight. It picked up his most handsome features, made him glow like some sort of fey creature. This is what happens in movies, Yunho thought to himself absently as he stared at the other boy, unable to look away. There was something stuck in his throat, and he wondered if it might be his heart.
And then Jaejoong turned to look at him, giving him a smile that was all too human.
“Come on,” Jaejoong told him, and turned to walk down the edge of the waves.
Jaejoong seemed to be content to walk in silence, small waves lapping at their feet as they stepped over shells and washed up seaweed. Their hands were still comfortably entwined, and it made Yunho’s insides feel funny at how right this all seemed and how stupid that he’d never got to feel this way before.
They walked all the way down to the large dark rocks that decorated the edge of the beach, leading up to a craggy, bush-covered cliff.
Jaejoong scrambled up the side of a rock, Yunho lending his hand for balance and hoping that their feet wouldn’t be shredded on the slick rocks or tenacious barnacles that hung to the hidden crags. Yunho followed him up though, never thinking to do otherwise, and settled himself on the rock behind Jaejoong, wrapping his arms around the boy once more.
“I’m not afraid anymore,” Jaejoong said, quietly. Yunho’s brow furrowed and he pulled Jaejoong against him tighter, like he could protect him from the future.
“Were you ever afraid?” he asked, wondering. Yunho couldn’t remember ever seeing anything in Jaejoong that showed that he was scared, or even that he wanted to run away from it all. Jaejoong had always seemed so calm and accepting of their fates.
“Of course.” Jaejoong seemed surprised at his question. “I’ve been afraid since the day they told us about the gas, about the water. I was terrified in Seoul. When Youngmi shoved me into the plane, I was shaking, I was so afraid.” Yunho felt him take a deep breath, felt him push back into the embrace. “When I was on the plane… I was angry. I was angry at them for their stupidity, for their carelessness, for their war-mongering, for their god complex and their need to control everything. I hated them all but I knew they were dead already and that there was no going back.”
They were silent for a while, looking out at the water and thinking separate thoughts.
“There was a woman in the airport, when I arrived. She kept saying we deserved it, that we were getting what was coming to us, and it was God’s will that we died.” He paused for a few moments, remembering that day, when he’d felt most afraid, most lost. “After a while, a man hit her. Right across the face. He told her to shut up, that she was a lunatic. People were staring at them, and I remember wondering which of them was right.”
Jaejoong snorted. “Does it matter?”
“No… I suppose not.” Yunho hadn’t really thought about it like that. But then again, not much in general seemed to matter anymore.
“I guess that’s why I’m not afraid. In the end, dying isn’t the hard part. It’s the living that’s the worst.”
Yunho didn’t have anything to say to that.
“I’m glad I’m here. With you.” The words were sure and though they startled Yunho, he felt something in himself warm at them. Jaejoong’s hand came up to encase his own on the slim waist, freeing himself momentarily so as to allow himself to shift and turn around. They stared at each other for a while, and Yunho felt himself relax, really relax, in their embrace.
“I wish - “ Yunho began, voice full of longing. Jaejoong stopped him though; a finger to his lips as he leaned forward, their faces only an inch apart.
“Don’t.” It was a command, and Yunho felt the words die on his lips, only to be swallowed by Jaejoong’s as they pressed against his own.
“Don’t wish. There’s no more time for wishing,” the pale boy whispered against him.
As their lips met again, Yunho wished he could say he was wrong.
+ + +
It could have been days, weeks, months, they didn’t know, time moving like sticky molasses when they had themselves and the air and the beach. But eventually, like they knew it would, it came.
It was Junsu who saw them.
They were standing in the kitchen, sitting and leaning around the island there as they talked and laughed when he came in and stood in the doorway. At first they didn’t notice, but one by one they stopped talking and turned to look at him.
Yunho moved slightly, as if to go to Junsu, opened his mouth to ask ‘What’s wrong?’, but then he stopped. They could all see it in his face.
“They’re coming,” he said, and his eyes were wild, scared.
They moved out of the kitchen, Yoochun catching Junsu’s hand and squeezing it, hard. Moving towards the balcony, they could see them as well through the large windows. Far out to sea, black clouds rolling on the horizon.
For a while, they just stood there, watching the sky wordlessly as the reality of it sunk in.
It seemed like a very short age before the silence was broken by Jaejoong, who took a deep breath and looked around at them all.
“Time to go,” he said with a calm acceptance that made Yunho’s breath catch with pride and awe. He wanted to grab hold of Jaejoong, hold him so tight that they’d merge, that they’d become something better; something that could survive this.
But reality was a bitter thing, and instead Yunho took in his own deep breath and nodded.
It was with quiet, minimal words that they left the house, dressed as they were and with bare feet and clasped hands.
The path down to the beach was not as difficult this time, and they found themselves on the fine white sand all too soon.
Yunho’s heart was thundering, ears ringing with the sound of it. Everything seemed to still however when Jaejoong’s hand touched his, and he saw the warm smile of the boy beside him. It’s alright, his face said, and Yunho nearly believed it.
Yunho thought, perhaps, that without Jaejoong, he would have lost his nerve. Run screaming, as if he could escape, as if there were somewhere he could run to. Looking around at the others, he thought they would do the same, and realised that being together meant so much more then not being alone.
It was strength, to follow them down to the edge of the water, to look around at each other and know that this was it. Changmin huffed out a breath, and as one they began to find a spot in the sand, entwining themselves together and settling in to watch the haze of the sunset lengthen and the dark thunderous clouds rolling in.
And there they stayed; on the beach, together,
waiting for the rain.
“They’re going inland,” Yunho said when they came back. The people were milling, loading stuff - supplies - into their cars and trucks, a fierce determination around them. Instinct. Survival of the fittest, or those that cared enough. “They figure they can outstay the rain there. Do you want to go with them?” Outback Australia wasn’t the Sahara, but it was just as unforgiving, and there would not be a cloud in the sky there.
Jaejoong looked out over Yunho’s shoulder to the people. Looked at the way their faces were set with grim resolve, the way they carried their hope on their sleeves. His focus moved back to Yunho, and he saw something else there.
A willingness to follow him.
Jaejoong could see, right there in Yunho’s face that Yunho would go wherever he decided to go. And he knew just as instinctively that the others would fall in line after that. Shifting his weight to one hand, Jaejoong reached up to cup Yunho’s cheek, touching him fondly.
Why didn’t I meet him earlier, have more time? A part of him asked, but he knew it to be a futile, useless question. It was luck he found Yunho when he did, and besides, there was nothing more he could do about past regrets.
“No,” he said, and skimmed the pad of his thumb over Yunho’s cheekbone. Yunho nodded, ever so slightly, accepting. He never asked why, but Jaejoong supplied the reason anyway. “A hole in the desert somewhere… living for hope and fear. No…” He paused, eyes turning to the roadside and the dry, wilted bushes there. “We fucked ourselves over. It’s time to move on.”
Yunho and Changmin waved to the people as they drove past with Yoochun at the wheel. They were heading in opposite directions, one way to hope of life, the other to the hope of living. Yunho was not sure he knew which way was which.
They kept driving north, a long stretch of highway surrounded by blackened bush and signs for brumbies. Jaejoong looked out the window, watching the silver gum trees fly past and fancied he could see the silvery shadows of horses galloping through them.
+
“Look, bananas.” Junsu’s statement was somewhat full of wonder and all of them turned to look out the window, even Yoochun who was driving. They’d seen pastures, seen cows and sheep and horses, seen the animals roaming around their closed off pastures like there wasn’t a worry in the world. For them though, there probably wasn’t. So long as there was grass on the ground and water in their ponds, they didn’t care about what problems the world had. They’d just been something to look at for five boys in a car on a long, empty road.
But bananas were different.
It didn’t take much, just a few significant looks shared around the car, and then they were pulled over beside the fence, the five of them clambering out.
None of them could say they had any fruit picking experience, but it wasn’t exactly rocket science.
Changmin emptied his backpack, and they picked bananas. It took a bit of effort and creative force to hoist one of them up towards the leafy tops of the trees. It was Yoochun that went up first, deemed to be the lightest of them all. He struggled for balance, and then came up against the other obstacle of pest control. The large bunch of very ripe (perhaps too ripe) looking fruits was protected by a plastic net of some sort. Frowning, and wobbling on his groaning support, he managed to pull it open and off, and loose a large bunch of bananas.
Junsu went up next, after they’d found a suitable (short) tree. He had slightly more difficulty with the net and fell once before getting the bunch down. They moved forward again, and were working on another tree when Jaejoong abruptly stopped pulling his weight (or rather, holding Yoochun’s weight), causing the picking to pause as Yoochun cursed at him and rubbed his head.
Jaejoong wasn’t paying attention however, Yunho either, the pair of them staring off to the right. The others turned to look and found a farmer standing not too far off, on the porch of a small house next to a dirt road that marked the end of the banana field.
His name was Dan, he told Changmin, and they were welcome to take as many bananas as they liked.
“’S not like anyone else’s gonna be eating them. So go righttahead boys.”
He helped them pull down another bunch, and using his large, long clippers was a lot easier then balancing Junsu on someone’s shoulders. Dan didn’t ask them where they were from as they carried the bananas back to the car, or where they were going. Didn’t say much at all, really.
Before they left, he gave them a small box of oranges, large and round and ripe.
Junsu watched him from the window of the car as they pulled away. The man’s lone figure raised his hand in a farewell gesture, before he was enveloped by dust and the strong sunshine.
+
The house was big. Glass and white painted wood, it was no doubt the remnant of some rich magnate, who would have used it to get away from it all. It stood up on the short cliff over the beach they’d pulled up at, the structure gleaming in the light as they squinted up at it. It was like some magical, shining castle, just waiting for the fairytale to begin.
Jaejoong’s toes curled into the sand and he studied the surroundings as Junsu and Changmin began to climb up the small path to the house, scrabbling over stones and pulling at shrubs. It had been a long time since the path had been used.
They left their car on the opposite rise, abandoned.
Getting rid of the alarms was easily done, prizing the contraptions from the wall and yanking out the wires. It wasn’t as if the police would be out to see who disturbed this lost sanctum - this place was forgotten by the world, too busy with its own problems to care anymore.
They walked through the wooden-panelled hallway and out into a sweeping room of white and timber. It was simple and clean and the most serene room Yunho had ever seen. He wondered if the owner had appreciated it, had spent time here and relaxed here and valued it for the haven it was.
Yoochun walked out to the balcony, twisting the locks before throwing open the wide glass doors and letting the sea breeze sweep through the empty rooms.
“It’s beautiful,” Jaejoong whispered, stepping out and over the stained wooden boards to look out over the vast ocean. Yoochun made some sort of noise, perhaps derisive, perhaps not, and leant forward to rest his chin on his folded arms.
+
They sprawled through the house, claiming it as their own. It was beautiful and the kind of thing they’d only ever seen on TV… they felt like liars pretending to live there, but in the end, wasn’t that what they were? It was easy to stay there though, like entering a limbo where the days and nights merged together and time had no meaning anymore. Where they weren’t just waiting anymore.
“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Junsu said, lying across the soft white rug and scrunching his fingers into the luxurious fabric.
“What is?” Changmin asked, eyeing the older boy lazily.
“This place. All of the work and sacrifice to find and create this little piece of heaven… and it’ll all be put to waste.” He rolled over, staring at the ceiling. “It’s just sad.”
Changmin was silent for a long while, and Junsu had almost fallen asleep when he replied.
“This place will still be here. It will survive, for a while at least. It’s just that there will be no one left to enjoy it.” Junsu looked up at him, meeting the studious young man’s eyes, and wished that he’d fallen asleep and missed those softly spoken words.
Suddenly it felt like the whole thing was crashing down on him and all the things he didn’t want to think about welled up in his mind, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He had to bite his lip, look away, to stop Changmin from seeing the dampness that collected in his eyes.
“Don’t -” Changmin began, feeling guilty for being too honest with his thoughts. It wasn’t like any of them needed any reminding. But he faltered after that first word. He was clumsy with soft words and didn’t know what to say to make it better again.
“I… I have a twin. Junho. My hyung. He was in America when the gas was dropped. He was about to start University in California. His dream, not mine, so I never thought about going.” And then his breath hitched and he stop again, collecting himself. Changmin remained silent, still, letting him release because there wasn’t much else he could do. He already knew how the story ended, and Changmin thought of his own sister, trapped in an apartment in Korea until her body rotted.
“I saw it on the news, you know? I saw the satellite pictures they got, saw all the bodies… just… lying there.” He swallowed, hard. “It was horrific. I remember just going blank for a while, and then my mother crying and crying . And I knew, I knew Junho was dead and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.” Junsu turned his head, burying it into the rug for a moment before restlessly rolling over, hand hiding his face from the light and Changmin.
“I don’t know. Everything… it all just seemed jumbled up. All I could think about was Junho, but then they started to realise it wasn’t going away… that it was going to move with the weather. The woman next door started screaming, and Dad was throwing us in the car to go to the airport.”
There wasn’t any need to continue, and Changmin could imagine what had happened after that. They’d heard about the utter chaos at the airports, the panicked crowds acting like so many scared sheep, ready to trample and push whoever they needed to in order to find a way out. Not that it mattered much in the end. A few more weeks, that was all.
Changmin felt the memories and the silence between them creep down his back, making his hair stand on end. Useless words itched at his throat, and he found a few of them spilling out unbidden.
“At least it was painless,” he said. Junsu moved his hand slightly, looking up at Changmin with one eye for a while. The sheen in his eyes was gone; the release of talking about it, of saying Junho’s name aloud taking out some of the pain and replacing it instead with weariness and some kind of acceptance.
“At least it will be,” Junsu agreed.
+
There was a radio in the house. Actually, it would have been insulting to call the huge entertainment system set up a mere ‘radio’, but somewhere behind the slick, sleek interface was the dinky regular parts of a radio. There wasn’t much to listen to on it, hadn’t been for some time with all the stations slowly slipping from the air as one by one they gave up. One or two remained however, and there was some guy in Sydney still broadcasting. Yunho couldn’t really say how he kept the relay up and going so far out of the city, but in the end it didn’t really matter how he did it.
The guy’s name was Tee Taylor. Or at least that’s what he called himself. It sounded like a daft name, but then again people called their kids daft things.
Tee played music sometimes, often weird old stuff from the 50s or something. It was nothing that any of them recognized at least, but it left them feeling odd and displaced. The newer songs, the ones that they knew from hearing on the radio in times past when they were normal and things were just the way they were meant to be - to those they sometimes sung along.
Junsu could sing, they found out. He had a beautiful, unique voice that soared. He and Jaejoong harmonized, their voices melding effortlessly, and Yunho wondered aloud if either of them had ever considered being singers.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve always loved singing. I might have tried out for one of the entertainment companies. But they are so hard to get into.” Junsu stopped abruptly there, face screwing up as he remembers that it wasn’t ‘are’ anymore, but ‘were’ instead, and knew that it was just another dream unfulfilled.
“I left home when I was fourteen,” Jaejoong told them, voice coming into being unexpectedly. They all looked at him, but he was staring out the window with that glassy-eyed look that meant he was somewhere else entirely. “I wanted to be a singer. That’s how I got to Seoul.” It’s no wonder then that he doesn’t even have high school English, Yunho thought to himself inanely. He wondered what had happened in Seoul to make Jaejoong stop wanting to sing. Because the idea that he hadn’t been able to make it seemed silly; Jaejoong probably would have done whatever it took.
After that, nobody spoke for a while, the sound of the music filling the room and sounding wildly inappropriate.
Despite the mixed feelings evoked by the variety of music that Tee selected, they perhaps felt the most odd when Tee just talked. They were out in the middle of no where, and the disembodied voice of Tee was like a reminder that there were actually other people still out there.
A reminder that they weren’t alone at the end of the world.
+
Changmin found Jaejoong in the kitchen, cutting up pieces of orange. His lips and fingers were stained with the juice, and he looked so perfectly normal that Changmin felt like crying. Instead, he came up behind the older man and wrapped his arms around Jaejoong’s waist, like he’d seen Yunho do before. Jaejoong paused in his movements for a moment, before continuing. He hummed as he cut, and Changmin could feel and hear the deep vibrations as he pressed his cheek to Jaejoong’s back, the sound somehow reassuring. He closed his eyes, and imagined that this was the world.
The peace was disturbed as Jaejoong’s fingers stilled, the knife resting, immobile, on the cutting board. He leant against the bench for a while, feeling Changmin’s solid weight against his back, feeling the warmth of the taller boy and staring out the wide windows to the sea. There were no signs of clouds. Not yet, not yet.
He turned, eventually, catching Changmin in his arms and pressing a piece of orange to the lips of the other. Changmin opened his eyes and took the offering, lips curling around Jaejoong’s fingers as well as the fruit.
“Please…” he murmured, ripe explosions of orange filling his mouth, sliding down his throat. “Please…”
And then Jaejoong’s lips were against his, a rush of something warm shooting up his spine at the contact.
He didn’t think he’d ever felt so much from a kiss before, had ever felt someone’s skin with the intensity and focus that he now touched Jaejoong with. It was a hunger, a deep desire that roared to life from a place he hadn’t known had existed inside him.
A desire to know this. To be touched. To be known. To be loved. By anyone. Just once.
He couldn’t stop, even as he felt himself devouring Jaejoong in any way he could find possible. The slices of orange scattered and fell to the ground, a different sort of offering laid out over the cool marble.
There were no words between them as Jaejoong threaded his fingers though Changmin’s hair, guiding him slowly to all the things Changmin wanted to experience, steady fingers and sure hands acting like a lifeline.
His skin was smooth, soft and pliable as Changmin’s fingers clutched at every part of him, pulling at the soft fabrics that covered Jaejoong’s body, clumsy but reverent in his actions.
It was messy and off kilter, desperate and sad and sweet, but it was beautiful. And after, when Changmin cried, Jaejoong just held him.
Hours later, Yunho found them on the kitchen floor, hiding from the rays of sun behind the kitchen island. They were both half naked, with Changmin lying on Jaejoong’s chest as the elder ran his fingers through his hair.
For a long while Yunho just looked down at them silently, watching the movement of Jaejoong’s hand and recalling the feeling of that same hand moving through his own hair.
The shuffle of his feet on tiles made Jaejoong look up at him. The young man’s wide, dark eyes held no guilt, nor any real surprise at Yunho’s presence. Under his calm, steady gaze any recriminations Yunho felt surfacing slowly faded. His eyes flickered down to Changmin’s peaceful face, blotchy cheeks and damp lashes pulling away the world-weary cynicism that had hung over the young man like a protective shroud ever since they’d met. Without it, all Yunho saw was a boy; a boy who was just as lost as they all were.
Sighing, Yunho found himself sliding down against the side of the island, coming to sit beside Jaejoong on his other side.
“Can I cry too?” Yunho asked. Changmin snorted, and then snuffled, and then laughed. He pulled himself upwards and off Jaejoong, resting back against the island as well.
Jaejoong let him go, and turned to Yunho. His face held none of the mirth Changmin’s did, and he put his hand on top of Yunho’s on the other’s knee.
“If you want,” he said. Yunho’s hand turned over, lacing their fingers together. “It’s okay to cry sometimes.” Jaejoong added quietly, eyes moving from his left to his right and back again between the two proud young men on either side of him.
“Yeah?” Yunho half asked, half stated. He felt Jaejoong squeeze his hand, and he returned the pressure.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve never cried,” Changmin remarked, examining the cupboard door in front of him.
Jaejoong’s lips tilted up slightly, and his head fell back to rest against the polished marble. His free hand came down on Changmin’s knee, patting it. Both Changmin and Yunho watched as his eyes slid closed, his chest rising and falling in a contented sigh.
“For a while now, I’ve haven’t felt the need to.”
+
Sometimes, they watched movies.
The movies didn’t have subtitles, of course. Well, some had German or French ones, but they were of even less use to them. But they watched them anyway, laid sprawled across each other on the couch and rug. They watched in silence. Neither of the English speakers tried to explain what was going on, and none of the others asked for an explanation. Jaejoong stretched, hugging Yunho’s leg close as he rubbed his cheek into the soft cotton of Yunho’s pants, and wondered if this was somehow profane. If watching movies while waiting for the world to end was wonderfully ironical or just plain stupid.
But… it was… nice. Just to be.
It was nice, to be with others. To be able to lie with his head in Yunho’s lap, to absently touch Changmin’s hair, to nudge Junsu’s shoulder with his foot, or pretend to step on Yoochun’s stomach as he brought back banana’s for them to eat.
It was nice, to be able to forget, for a moment, and just be carefree.
It was nice, to wander down the craggy path to the beach, slipping and sliding, grabbing each other for balance and tumbling out onto the shore.
It was nice, to run after Yoochun, tackling him from behind and tumbling them both into the sand. It was nice, to hear Junsu’s war cry and Changmin’s cry of surprise as he was splashed with salty water. It was nice, to play with the waves and each other, to fall back into the ocean and squint up at the sky to just see clear, brilliant blue without wondering when the clouds would come.
It was nice, to have two arms to circle his waist, to feel warmth at his back and know there was someone there, that the rumble of momentary contentment that came from that chest was not at all faked.
It was nice to just be, to enjoy and to forget for a while.
+
“What’s one thing you love to do?” Yunho had asked them all, one morning.
“What is this, 20 questions?” Changmin said back, rolling his eyes. Yoochun smacked the back of his head.
“Soccer,” Junsu piped up, before Yoochun got a chance to retort verbally, cutting off the impending squabble. “I love to play soccer.”
Jaejoong nods, thoughtfully, as if he’d known all along. Yunho looks at him then, eyebrow raised.
“I always enjoyed cooking. And singing.” The odd concoctions that Jaejoong had been creating for them from canned goods somewhat made sense with the answer, but, well, it had been nice to have one among them that could actually boil water.
“Composing music,” was Yoochun’s answer, sounding wistful. He’d said as much, not so long ago, while talking about dreams that never were. “The one thing I wished I could have done - made a song for someone to sing.”
They all turn to look at Changmin, who sighed. “I like watching people.” He got a few odd looks, and shrugged. “I like thinking about who they might be, what they’re doing, what they’re thinking,” he explained.
“What about you?” Jaejoong asked Yunho, leaning on his shoulder and looking at Yunho sideways. Yunho smiled a little, leaning back against the other boy.
“Dancing,” he said, and Jaejoong could hear the love in his voice.
That evening, Jaejoong pulled all the paper he could find in the house into the kitchen and sat at the island there with a look of determination, a roll of masking tape and a black marker.
The next morning, Junsu woke up when someone hit him in the face with something light but kind of hard. He found a lumpy, yellowish ‘soccer ball’ with designs in black marker on it rolling beside his bed and Jaejoong standing over him with a smile.
They played soccer on the beach all morning, before coming back to the house where Jaejoong set to making an ill-conceived feast while Yoochun sat in the kitchen, keeping him company and scribbling on left over scraps of paper.
After lunch, Jaejoong and Junsu sat down to decipher the scribbles, and after a lot of false starts and some laughing, they sang a song that Jaejoong gave the title, ‘Love, goodbye love.’ And then they sang it again, with Changmin and Yunho joining in at the chorus, and Yoochun began to cry.
That night, when they got sick of the radio and Tee and the world, they put on CDs from the rack beside the entertainment system. Junsu found an older compilation CD of dance songs from the early ‘90s, and Jaejoong shoved Yunho up from the couch.
Yunho danced with control, just like Jaejoong thought he would. But he was beautiful when he danced, and his face came alive.
After a few songs, Junsu joined him, dancing around the living room, bare toes curling into the plush carpet as his hips twisted and his body swayed.
Yoochun got up after a song, taking one of Junsu’s outstretched hands and dancing around him. He couldn’t dance as well as Junsu, but it didn’t matter. And then Yunho slowed his movements, and reached down to pull Jaejoong up. Jaejoong protested all the way, insecure without a crowded push of bodies around him. He tried to run away from Yunho’s hands as he pulled Jaejoong close and forced him to dance but in the end he surrendered, and Yunho grinned in satisfaction as Jaejoong moved somewhat clumsily beside him.
Changmin watched them as they danced, his foot tapping to the beat absently, and smiled.
+
Yunho woke up to dim moonlight and found that Jaejoong wasn’t there. The floorboards felt cool under his feet as he slipped out of the room and down the stairs, trying not to make them creak.
Even before he got down to the bottom, he could see Jaejoong, a dark silhouette outlined against the wide glass doors, staring out to sea. He had one hand up on the cool pane, like he was trying to touch the sky.
Jaejoong didn’t turn as Yunho approached, and Yunho hung back for a while, watching him. He wanted to reach out and touch Jaejoong but for some reason he was hesitant.
How long have I know this man? He thought to himself suddenly. It’s not something he’d really thought about much. The fact that he was in a house with four other boys he doesn’t really know, trying to live until the end of the world. He’s kissed Jaejoong, held him, fucked him, eaten with him, danced with him… but did any of that mean anything?
“It’s a full moon.” The words startled him, so loud and stark in the darkness. His eyes automatically flicked to look beyond Jaejoong’s figure, and he looked out to see the moon and its watery reflection.
“So it is,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Jaejoong said after some time in silence. Yunho just nodded, and so the shorter boy took his hand and led him out through the doors and down the little path which was even harder to navigate by night then it is by day. He led him down to the edge of the water, until the waves tickled their toes.
The moon was somehow bigger then it had seemed from inside, hanging up in the midnight sky like a lantern.
Jaejoong looked good by moonlight. It picked up his most handsome features, made him glow like some sort of fey creature. This is what happens in movies, Yunho thought to himself absently as he stared at the other boy, unable to look away. There was something stuck in his throat, and he wondered if it might be his heart.
And then Jaejoong turned to look at him, giving him a smile that was all too human.
“Come on,” Jaejoong told him, and turned to walk down the edge of the waves.
Jaejoong seemed to be content to walk in silence, small waves lapping at their feet as they stepped over shells and washed up seaweed. Their hands were still comfortably entwined, and it made Yunho’s insides feel funny at how right this all seemed and how stupid that he’d never got to feel this way before.
They walked all the way down to the large dark rocks that decorated the edge of the beach, leading up to a craggy, bush-covered cliff.
Jaejoong scrambled up the side of a rock, Yunho lending his hand for balance and hoping that their feet wouldn’t be shredded on the slick rocks or tenacious barnacles that hung to the hidden crags. Yunho followed him up though, never thinking to do otherwise, and settled himself on the rock behind Jaejoong, wrapping his arms around the boy once more.
“I’m not afraid anymore,” Jaejoong said, quietly. Yunho’s brow furrowed and he pulled Jaejoong against him tighter, like he could protect him from the future.
“Were you ever afraid?” he asked, wondering. Yunho couldn’t remember ever seeing anything in Jaejoong that showed that he was scared, or even that he wanted to run away from it all. Jaejoong had always seemed so calm and accepting of their fates.
“Of course.” Jaejoong seemed surprised at his question. “I’ve been afraid since the day they told us about the gas, about the water. I was terrified in Seoul. When Youngmi shoved me into the plane, I was shaking, I was so afraid.” Yunho felt him take a deep breath, felt him push back into the embrace. “When I was on the plane… I was angry. I was angry at them for their stupidity, for their carelessness, for their war-mongering, for their god complex and their need to control everything. I hated them all but I knew they were dead already and that there was no going back.”
They were silent for a while, looking out at the water and thinking separate thoughts.
“There was a woman in the airport, when I arrived. She kept saying we deserved it, that we were getting what was coming to us, and it was God’s will that we died.” He paused for a few moments, remembering that day, when he’d felt most afraid, most lost. “After a while, a man hit her. Right across the face. He told her to shut up, that she was a lunatic. People were staring at them, and I remember wondering which of them was right.”
Jaejoong snorted. “Does it matter?”
“No… I suppose not.” Yunho hadn’t really thought about it like that. But then again, not much in general seemed to matter anymore.
“I guess that’s why I’m not afraid. In the end, dying isn’t the hard part. It’s the living that’s the worst.”
Yunho didn’t have anything to say to that.
“I’m glad I’m here. With you.” The words were sure and though they startled Yunho, he felt something in himself warm at them. Jaejoong’s hand came up to encase his own on the slim waist, freeing himself momentarily so as to allow himself to shift and turn around. They stared at each other for a while, and Yunho felt himself relax, really relax, in their embrace.
“I wish - “ Yunho began, voice full of longing. Jaejoong stopped him though; a finger to his lips as he leaned forward, their faces only an inch apart.
“Don’t.” It was a command, and Yunho felt the words die on his lips, only to be swallowed by Jaejoong’s as they pressed against his own.
“Don’t wish. There’s no more time for wishing,” the pale boy whispered against him.
As their lips met again, Yunho wished he could say he was wrong.
+ + +
It could have been days, weeks, months, they didn’t know, time moving like sticky molasses when they had themselves and the air and the beach. But eventually, like they knew it would, it came.
It was Junsu who saw them.
They were standing in the kitchen, sitting and leaning around the island there as they talked and laughed when he came in and stood in the doorway. At first they didn’t notice, but one by one they stopped talking and turned to look at him.
Yunho moved slightly, as if to go to Junsu, opened his mouth to ask ‘What’s wrong?’, but then he stopped. They could all see it in his face.
“They’re coming,” he said, and his eyes were wild, scared.
They moved out of the kitchen, Yoochun catching Junsu’s hand and squeezing it, hard. Moving towards the balcony, they could see them as well through the large windows. Far out to sea, black clouds rolling on the horizon.
For a while, they just stood there, watching the sky wordlessly as the reality of it sunk in.
It seemed like a very short age before the silence was broken by Jaejoong, who took a deep breath and looked around at them all.
“Time to go,” he said with a calm acceptance that made Yunho’s breath catch with pride and awe. He wanted to grab hold of Jaejoong, hold him so tight that they’d merge, that they’d become something better; something that could survive this.
But reality was a bitter thing, and instead Yunho took in his own deep breath and nodded.
It was with quiet, minimal words that they left the house, dressed as they were and with bare feet and clasped hands.
The path down to the beach was not as difficult this time, and they found themselves on the fine white sand all too soon.
Yunho’s heart was thundering, ears ringing with the sound of it. Everything seemed to still however when Jaejoong’s hand touched his, and he saw the warm smile of the boy beside him. It’s alright, his face said, and Yunho nearly believed it.
Yunho thought, perhaps, that without Jaejoong, he would have lost his nerve. Run screaming, as if he could escape, as if there were somewhere he could run to. Looking around at the others, he thought they would do the same, and realised that being together meant so much more then not being alone.
It was strength, to follow them down to the edge of the water, to look around at each other and know that this was it. Changmin huffed out a breath, and as one they began to find a spot in the sand, entwining themselves together and settling in to watch the haze of the sunset lengthen and the dark thunderous clouds rolling in.
And there they stayed; on the beach, together,
waiting for the rain.