(no subject)
birdsongs (pt.3/4)
chapter-fic | jaechun (friendship?), band!fic, language, borderline-tragedy, sad!yoochun, angststresscrying and drinking; PG-13 (1912 Words.)
the disclaimer remains that "i don't own the boys, and if i did, i would honestly have better things to do than write about them."
then i sat in the silence
thanked the lord for peace
coughed up a feather and fell asleep
but in my dreams began to creep
that old familiar tweet tweet tweet
aaand this is where it all turns to shit. sorry.
He wakes up dizzy, with what feels like plaster on his back. His feet move without him thinking and he stumbles out of bed, nearly falls in the hallway - pulls himself to the bathroom in a jittery mess. He splashes cool tap water on his face, rifles through the medicine cabnet; empties it, goes over the backs of the bottles and tosses them two by two because nothing there matches his symptoms and he's terrified of taking something without knowing it'll help. He presses his wet palms to the back of the cabinet as if to be sure it's empty.
His shoulders heave and he lets out a strangled cry, crouching over the sink, head on the running foset. When he peeks back, he sees them; big and red-stained, pulsing. They just keep growing, he whimpers, they just. keep. growing. When he reaches back and presses his hands to his back, tries to calm the swelling, it feels like there are coals under his flesh. It's pain that he can't describe; he flattens his back to the wall and slides down, breathing heavy.
The colours of the bottles on the floor blur and merge into a messy slather of imagery. They just keep growing. He takes a deep breath, grasping his knees with whitening fingers; digs his nails into the skin on his back until he has long, deep gashes and skin under his fingernails. It won't stop; it can't stop.
Water sloshes over the proceline edges of the sink and he wonders if this is what it feels like to be dying.
There's a shout and the door is opened.
"What are you doing?"
As if it's his fault - as if it's always been his fault.
-
"I'm fine," Yoochun insists for the nth time, tugging uncomfortably on the blue tape fusing his IV to his hand. "Just haven't slep enough. I feel fine now."
Yunho looks like he wants to believe him, but the sincerity on his friends face can't supress that leaderly duty that wells inside of Yunho's stomach. Passing out on stage isn't normal - not to them, not at their worst; not for Yoochun. Jaejoong squeezes his hand softly, brushing his thumb over the chapped back of Yoochun's hand, and flashes a plaster-smile.
"We know you are," he consoles, "we just want you to take it easy for a few days, alright? Just a few. You'll be back promoting your heart out before you know it."
Yoochun's pulled up the edge of the tape by now, and instead focuses on adhereing it back to his hand. "But I'm fine," he protests - the tape isn't sticking so he glances down and realizes the glue has globbed together from the pulling and isn't adhesive anymore. Junsu is sitting on a stool, gnawing on his lips, with a far away look on his face. Yunho sighs, long and slow, pushing frustration out of his nostrils. Jaejoong has always been best at convincing people.
"I know that," Jaejoong tries for a different approach, constricting his fingers tighter around Yoochun's skin. "We all know that- but I personally would rather have you being fine at home then fine in a studio. For now, that is."
Yoochun groans and rubs at his neck, IV forgotten, and glances at his members uncertainly. Changmin enters the room then with a tray full of coffees and a wry grin on his lips. "Getting off easy, are we?" he teases (in the way he can but no one else can) and hands a latte to the group leader. "Wish I'd thought of tripping infront of thousands of people so I could get a vacation."
Jaejoong smacks him when he goes for his coffee, but everyone appreciates the lift in mood. Yoochun steals a sip from Jaejoongs cup, and the older scowls but doesn't say anything.
"Will we have to postpone the tour?" Junsu asks, suddenly, and Jaejoong clicks his tongue hastily.
"No," he says, "I talked to one of the nurses. She told me he'll be here a few days, tops."
Yunho frowns, "they wouldn't tell me anything when I asked."
Jaejoong grins secretly, but Changmins eyes roll and he ruins JaeJoong's victory by muttering, "you don't look easy." Jaejoong's grin is gone soon after that, and the room errupts in bickering.
"Hello?" Yunho answers his phone suddenly, and Changmin and Jaejoong stop argueing at the sound, sneering playfully at eachother. Yunho excuses himself to the corner of the room and speaks in a hushed voice, occasionally glancing over at Yoochun, but not enough to make anyone suspicious. Jaejoong turns back to Yoochun and fusses over his hair, smoothing out the bumps and organizing the strands.
"You'll be fine," he assures him, though Yoochun doesn't need assurance and is almost certain he was the one telling everyone he was okay a few moments ago. He lets it slide when Jaejoong lets him to drink most of his coffee.
Yunho snaps his phone shut and turns to the others, "Well, that's our cue."
Yoochun jumps when the others stand and smooth out their clothing. "You're leaving?" he doesn't want it to be a whine, but it comes out panicked and watery. Jaejoong hugs his head.
"S'okay baby bird," he cooes, "we'll be back before you know it."
"Someone has to tell the world why you died when you were supposed to be pivoting," Junsu jokes, but his eyes aren't in it. Changmin clicks his tongue and tugs at Jaejoongs sleeves.
"He isn't going to evaporate the moment you let go of him," he chides, "come on, we have to go."
Jaejoong kisses the top of his head and leaves without his coffee.
-
Yoochun decides quite soon after they leave that he hates hospital rooms. The walls are empty and the linens itch. He thinks that he could tell the head-whoever-that-runs-this-place what fabric softener Jaejoong uses, but then he remembers he doesn't know what fabric softener Jaejoong uses.
The guys drop in periodically over the next two days; visit him and consult with the hospital staff. Jaejoong is there more than the others, fussing over his hair and talking about the dynamics of a sparrow's wings and new-found kimchi recipes. He doesn't bring up what Yoochun's been missing, and if it weren't for Jusnu ranting about hating to fill in for him, he wouldn't think he was missing anything at all.
He notices after Changmin leaves on the third day that there's a birdsnest outside of the window. The nest gives home to two birds he doesn't recognize, and they sing with the wind and moon and all the sounds of nature Yoochun's too cultured to hear. He takes to singing along with them when the others aren't there, imitating the trills of their voices, cooing at them like a dove.
He tells the nurse they're beautiful. "What kind of bird are they?"
She smiles at him and fastens something to his IV, "I don't know," she admits, and Yoochun thinks it's good that she doesn't know birds as long as she knows medicine.
"I'll ask Jaejoong," he muses to himself, "he's that of a self-taught expert."
The nurse nods and hands him a paper cup with some pills in it. "They'll help you sleep," she says, "since you're being discharged tomorrow."
Yoochun takes them and she leaves soon after, letting him sit and sing out the window.
-
"If only, if only, if only..."
"There isn't anything we can do but stop-"
"Oh god this is all my fault-"
-
Yoochun is better in record time; they relieve their fans by holding a brief fanmeeting in a tiny arena. A hundred girls giggle and squeeze him, and he deicdes to let them, inexplicably guilty for the worry of strangers.
When he arrives at their shared apartment for the first time in what feels like a decade, he discovers a plate of tuna collecting flies on the counter. There are opened packages all over the couches in the livingroom, and Changmin seems peeved about it.
"Jaejoong has a cat," he hisses through his teeth, and Yoochun tries to look surprised. This is the same man that rescued a mouse from a rainstorm and claimed it's angered little bites were really displays of affection. Yunho had to pry the thing out of his hands and endure the gnawing long enough to toss him back into the streets.
"A what- a cat? When did he find the time to get a cat?"
"I was walking home on Tuesday," Jaejoong interupts them as he strolls into the kitchen, waving the flies away and wiggling his hips. "And she was sitting outside the apartment, whining at me."
"So she's a stray," Yoochun gathers, leaning against the counter.
"Yep," Jaejoong says, grabbing a pinch of the sitting fish to give an experimental taste. "And she is the cutest little bundle of fluffy-defiance in the entire univserse - and she will continue to be so even after eating slightly spoiled tuna."
Yoochun scrunches his nose. "How does Vick feel about this new addition to the family?"
Jaejoong pauses midstep, "Vick... has accepted her presence in my life. Whole heartedly."
"So he doesn't know," Yoochun finishes for him. Jaejoong purses his lips and waves his hand convincingly. He looks like he's lying.
"Doesn't know is a strong term."
"He doesn't know," Yoochun says again. Jaejoong gives up and swats him, before giggling loudly and running down the hallway, bringing the plate of tuna with him. The door closes behind him with a playful slam.
"He insists on keeping her in his room," Yunho says, narrowing his eyes at Jaejoongs door. "To 'rehibilitate her to people' before he lets her out to meet us."
Yoochun nods and taps his fingers against the counter top awkwardly. "She have a name?" Junsu snorts from the livingroom - Changmin and Yunho share a look, the later shaking his head in amusement. Yoochun shifts his postion and crosses his arms over his chest. "Well?"
Changmin snorts, "her names' 'Tuesday.'"
-
Jaejoong lives in a mixture of the all the things he knows and doesn't. He's in a band called TVXQ and they sell out concerts in seventeen seconds flat; he has no idea where he'll be tomorrow; he doesn't care to think about what he'll be doing in a year. Sometimes he sings and the songs come out as wails and everyone cries with him; sometimes he hits every note and gives every word his soul and everyone cries anyways. He makes a mean kimchi chigae, and knows a helluva lot about birds, but his interest in them was less interest and more force.
He has wings that no one can see and he finds feathers everywhere; they stick best to sweaters and sometimes weed themselves into jeans and coat pockets.
He has a cat named Tuesday that scratches at him when he doesn't do what it says - so he screams and screams until Tuesday stops. The only problem is that when she retracts her claws and he stops screaming, the entire audience is in a silent stupor, the lights have dimmed, and his band members are staring at him mid-dance, unable to move to the music with him standing stiff in his place.
Jaejoong flusters, picks his micophone off the floor and tries to defend himself, but when he lifts his bleeding arms to show them, the scratches are gone, and so is Tuesday.
x
pt. 2 | pt.4
chapter-fic | jaechun (friendship?), band!fic, language, borderline-tragedy, sad!yoochun, angststresscrying and drinking; PG-13 (1912 Words.)
the disclaimer remains that "i don't own the boys, and if i did, i would honestly have better things to do than write about them."
then i sat in the silence
thanked the lord for peace
coughed up a feather and fell asleep
but in my dreams began to creep
that old familiar tweet tweet tweet
aaand this is where it all turns to shit. sorry.
He wakes up dizzy, with what feels like plaster on his back. His feet move without him thinking and he stumbles out of bed, nearly falls in the hallway - pulls himself to the bathroom in a jittery mess. He splashes cool tap water on his face, rifles through the medicine cabnet; empties it, goes over the backs of the bottles and tosses them two by two because nothing there matches his symptoms and he's terrified of taking something without knowing it'll help. He presses his wet palms to the back of the cabinet as if to be sure it's empty.
His shoulders heave and he lets out a strangled cry, crouching over the sink, head on the running foset. When he peeks back, he sees them; big and red-stained, pulsing. They just keep growing, he whimpers, they just. keep. growing. When he reaches back and presses his hands to his back, tries to calm the swelling, it feels like there are coals under his flesh. It's pain that he can't describe; he flattens his back to the wall and slides down, breathing heavy.
The colours of the bottles on the floor blur and merge into a messy slather of imagery. They just keep growing. He takes a deep breath, grasping his knees with whitening fingers; digs his nails into the skin on his back until he has long, deep gashes and skin under his fingernails. It won't stop; it can't stop.
Water sloshes over the proceline edges of the sink and he wonders if this is what it feels like to be dying.
There's a shout and the door is opened.
"What are you doing?"
As if it's his fault - as if it's always been his fault.
-
"I'm fine," Yoochun insists for the nth time, tugging uncomfortably on the blue tape fusing his IV to his hand. "Just haven't slep enough. I feel fine now."
Yunho looks like he wants to believe him, but the sincerity on his friends face can't supress that leaderly duty that wells inside of Yunho's stomach. Passing out on stage isn't normal - not to them, not at their worst; not for Yoochun. Jaejoong squeezes his hand softly, brushing his thumb over the chapped back of Yoochun's hand, and flashes a plaster-smile.
"We know you are," he consoles, "we just want you to take it easy for a few days, alright? Just a few. You'll be back promoting your heart out before you know it."
Yoochun's pulled up the edge of the tape by now, and instead focuses on adhereing it back to his hand. "But I'm fine," he protests - the tape isn't sticking so he glances down and realizes the glue has globbed together from the pulling and isn't adhesive anymore. Junsu is sitting on a stool, gnawing on his lips, with a far away look on his face. Yunho sighs, long and slow, pushing frustration out of his nostrils. Jaejoong has always been best at convincing people.
"I know that," Jaejoong tries for a different approach, constricting his fingers tighter around Yoochun's skin. "We all know that- but I personally would rather have you being fine at home then fine in a studio. For now, that is."
Yoochun groans and rubs at his neck, IV forgotten, and glances at his members uncertainly. Changmin enters the room then with a tray full of coffees and a wry grin on his lips. "Getting off easy, are we?" he teases (in the way he can but no one else can) and hands a latte to the group leader. "Wish I'd thought of tripping infront of thousands of people so I could get a vacation."
Jaejoong smacks him when he goes for his coffee, but everyone appreciates the lift in mood. Yoochun steals a sip from Jaejoongs cup, and the older scowls but doesn't say anything.
"Will we have to postpone the tour?" Junsu asks, suddenly, and Jaejoong clicks his tongue hastily.
"No," he says, "I talked to one of the nurses. She told me he'll be here a few days, tops."
Yunho frowns, "they wouldn't tell me anything when I asked."
Jaejoong grins secretly, but Changmins eyes roll and he ruins JaeJoong's victory by muttering, "you don't look easy." Jaejoong's grin is gone soon after that, and the room errupts in bickering.
"Hello?" Yunho answers his phone suddenly, and Changmin and Jaejoong stop argueing at the sound, sneering playfully at eachother. Yunho excuses himself to the corner of the room and speaks in a hushed voice, occasionally glancing over at Yoochun, but not enough to make anyone suspicious. Jaejoong turns back to Yoochun and fusses over his hair, smoothing out the bumps and organizing the strands.
"You'll be fine," he assures him, though Yoochun doesn't need assurance and is almost certain he was the one telling everyone he was okay a few moments ago. He lets it slide when Jaejoong lets him to drink most of his coffee.
Yunho snaps his phone shut and turns to the others, "Well, that's our cue."
Yoochun jumps when the others stand and smooth out their clothing. "You're leaving?" he doesn't want it to be a whine, but it comes out panicked and watery. Jaejoong hugs his head.
"S'okay baby bird," he cooes, "we'll be back before you know it."
"Someone has to tell the world why you died when you were supposed to be pivoting," Junsu jokes, but his eyes aren't in it. Changmin clicks his tongue and tugs at Jaejoongs sleeves.
"He isn't going to evaporate the moment you let go of him," he chides, "come on, we have to go."
Jaejoong kisses the top of his head and leaves without his coffee.
-
Yoochun decides quite soon after they leave that he hates hospital rooms. The walls are empty and the linens itch. He thinks that he could tell the head-whoever-that-runs-this-place what fabric softener Jaejoong uses, but then he remembers he doesn't know what fabric softener Jaejoong uses.
The guys drop in periodically over the next two days; visit him and consult with the hospital staff. Jaejoong is there more than the others, fussing over his hair and talking about the dynamics of a sparrow's wings and new-found kimchi recipes. He doesn't bring up what Yoochun's been missing, and if it weren't for Jusnu ranting about hating to fill in for him, he wouldn't think he was missing anything at all.
He notices after Changmin leaves on the third day that there's a birdsnest outside of the window. The nest gives home to two birds he doesn't recognize, and they sing with the wind and moon and all the sounds of nature Yoochun's too cultured to hear. He takes to singing along with them when the others aren't there, imitating the trills of their voices, cooing at them like a dove.
He tells the nurse they're beautiful. "What kind of bird are they?"
She smiles at him and fastens something to his IV, "I don't know," she admits, and Yoochun thinks it's good that she doesn't know birds as long as she knows medicine.
"I'll ask Jaejoong," he muses to himself, "he's that of a self-taught expert."
The nurse nods and hands him a paper cup with some pills in it. "They'll help you sleep," she says, "since you're being discharged tomorrow."
Yoochun takes them and she leaves soon after, letting him sit and sing out the window.
-
"If only, if only, if only..."
"There isn't anything we can do but stop-"
"Oh god this is all my fault-"
-
Yoochun is better in record time; they relieve their fans by holding a brief fanmeeting in a tiny arena. A hundred girls giggle and squeeze him, and he deicdes to let them, inexplicably guilty for the worry of strangers.
When he arrives at their shared apartment for the first time in what feels like a decade, he discovers a plate of tuna collecting flies on the counter. There are opened packages all over the couches in the livingroom, and Changmin seems peeved about it.
"Jaejoong has a cat," he hisses through his teeth, and Yoochun tries to look surprised. This is the same man that rescued a mouse from a rainstorm and claimed it's angered little bites were really displays of affection. Yunho had to pry the thing out of his hands and endure the gnawing long enough to toss him back into the streets.
"A what- a cat? When did he find the time to get a cat?"
"I was walking home on Tuesday," Jaejoong interupts them as he strolls into the kitchen, waving the flies away and wiggling his hips. "And she was sitting outside the apartment, whining at me."
"So she's a stray," Yoochun gathers, leaning against the counter.
"Yep," Jaejoong says, grabbing a pinch of the sitting fish to give an experimental taste. "And she is the cutest little bundle of fluffy-defiance in the entire univserse - and she will continue to be so even after eating slightly spoiled tuna."
Yoochun scrunches his nose. "How does Vick feel about this new addition to the family?"
Jaejoong pauses midstep, "Vick... has accepted her presence in my life. Whole heartedly."
"So he doesn't know," Yoochun finishes for him. Jaejoong purses his lips and waves his hand convincingly. He looks like he's lying.
"Doesn't know is a strong term."
"He doesn't know," Yoochun says again. Jaejoong gives up and swats him, before giggling loudly and running down the hallway, bringing the plate of tuna with him. The door closes behind him with a playful slam.
"He insists on keeping her in his room," Yunho says, narrowing his eyes at Jaejoongs door. "To 'rehibilitate her to people' before he lets her out to meet us."
Yoochun nods and taps his fingers against the counter top awkwardly. "She have a name?" Junsu snorts from the livingroom - Changmin and Yunho share a look, the later shaking his head in amusement. Yoochun shifts his postion and crosses his arms over his chest. "Well?"
Changmin snorts, "her names' 'Tuesday.'"
-
Jaejoong lives in a mixture of the all the things he knows and doesn't. He's in a band called TVXQ and they sell out concerts in seventeen seconds flat; he has no idea where he'll be tomorrow; he doesn't care to think about what he'll be doing in a year. Sometimes he sings and the songs come out as wails and everyone cries with him; sometimes he hits every note and gives every word his soul and everyone cries anyways. He makes a mean kimchi chigae, and knows a helluva lot about birds, but his interest in them was less interest and more force.
He has wings that no one can see and he finds feathers everywhere; they stick best to sweaters and sometimes weed themselves into jeans and coat pockets.
He has a cat named Tuesday that scratches at him when he doesn't do what it says - so he screams and screams until Tuesday stops. The only problem is that when she retracts her claws and he stops screaming, the entire audience is in a silent stupor, the lights have dimmed, and his band members are staring at him mid-dance, unable to move to the music with him standing stiff in his place.
Jaejoong flusters, picks his micophone off the floor and tries to defend himself, but when he lifts his bleeding arms to show them, the scratches are gone, and so is Tuesday.
x
pt. 2 | pt.4