[Fic] Hanging on that shadow of your reality - Part 1
Title: Hanging on that shadow of your reality
Pairing(s): Jaemin, Yoomin, Jaechun, jaechunmin?
Length: 1/3
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: slight language, confusingness?
Genre: AU, drama, angst, angst, angst
Summary: When dreams are more attractive than reality, who can blame him for wanting to lose himself within them forever?
A/N: was inspired from some korean movie i watched long time ago, dont remember the name. and i think i didnt even like it. but.. somehow got fuel for more angstyness :) so go go shoong~
*********
In his dreams Jaejoong was always somebody else.
Not only that, he was always the same person, just one person. Someone more beautiful, confident, and more interesting than himself. Someone who was worth holding onto. A man with a life that was worth living.
The man he became in his dreams knew how to talk, knew how to laugh and love, knew how to not only make goals but also achieve them, as well as explore his talents and passions to their fullest.
A man without a dark thought in him. A life without regrets and only flooded with endless possibilities and happiness. Freedom, contentment. Perfection.
Because that too-perfect-to-be-true, gorgeous existence was possible in the privacy of his own head; in the unconsciousness of his dream world.
Because these things were impossible to hold in reality. As much as he craved them, sought them, they were already out of his reach, too far from his desperately grasping hands as he continued to fall deeper into threatening despair.
That man he became was all that Jaejoong wished he was, his ideal self, all of his best qualities shining out the way they didn’t in his real life. Every time he slipped under the surreal bendable laws of dreams, he would walk with such clarity and purpose, head held high and eyes bright.
He knew he was just running away. A sniveling coward avoiding harsh reality, but what else could he do when he was so depressed and beaten down by life? He had nothing. He was nothing.
Even though he was awake, consciously able to see the true world around him, he desperately sought out sleep, his dreams the only thing that meant anything to him. All the more so because they were his secret getaway, a fantasy he could construct and form any way his heart desired. And in those dreams he had it all.
It had been a few years now since he’d first started this pathetic excuse of a life. The sudden death of his family, the center and purpose of his life, had easily thrown him deep into depression and despondency. All his goals and dreams were cut short, motivation shredded and scattered to the wind while guilt and self loathing corroded at him from the inside.
Because his life had been built around them, and it was his fault that they were gone.
Why them and not him? Why the two beautiful little sisters who had so much life ahead of them? Why didn’t he let them go sooner, so they wouldn’t have been late…so they wouldn’t have been rushing on that fateful cold autumn morning?
It was all his fault, and he knew he could never forgive himself.
Too weak to follow them, unable to end it all so he could join them, he wasted away in the dark silence of his room. The same dark silence that filled up his heart.
He wasn’t sure exactly how it started, but he knew the false highs found in his own subconscious had taken such a strong hold of him that at times he would mistake the incredibly realistic dreams he fell into as reality.
Waking alone in a dark stuffy room instead grew into a nightmare that he wanted to escape from. So much so that recently every moment spent in the sweet blissful world he had created and he felt watched, a heaviness lurking around the edges, waiting to suck him back into the nightmare.
He thought he would go crazy when he realized that he feared both worlds.
He had suffered through insomnia only to end up like this, a man half alive as sleep and dreams claimed him randomly and completely throughout the day and night. He did what he needed to survive, yet he was barely living.
Each time he woke from another escapade into that perfect world, the hole in his chest grew just a little bigger, became just a little more infected. Because somewhere along the line, he’d created a whole new life for himself and he was loath to give it up.
He didn’t care that it wasn’t real, didn’t care that he was slowly going insane over a mere fantasy. Because it was more precious and real to him than anything else in the world.
Jaejoong curled around himself, half buried under a heap of blankets. He was staring blankly out into the darkness around him. It was about four am and he still couldn’t sleep. And it was because for the past two days he hadn’t had a single dream. Not once.
It shook him to the core and had him thinking in dizzying circles, because as much as he knew they were mere stories constructed within his own brain, he could remember every moment he’d spent crystal clear. As if he had really lived it.
Not to mention in that world he had by his side the love of his life, a perfectly made, gorgeous person who loved him back just as deeply. They had pledged their lives to each other, had promised to grow old together. A love so perfect it only made sense it was a dream.
Yes, dream though it was, it was the only thing worth living for as he was desperately and forever in love with him: Changmin.
Just another reason why those dreams had ensnared him so easily and kept him so willingly within their clutches. Just another reason why he needed to get back into that world so freaking badly. Right now.
****
Reluctantly, yet determinedly, he left his apartment.
Unable to resist the pent up frustration, the growing frenzy of being truly alone for the first time in years, he forced himself to go out.
He couldn’t stand another long painful moment in his own room, not when the only company was a dark silent sleep. Not when the company he craved had been cruelly and inexplicably torn away.
He was raw and bleeding.
The single crazy thought filling his head was that he might actually be dreaming at that very moment, too overcome by fatigue to realize it. If so…then he knew his body would lead him.
He knew where he wanted to go. He knew where to find the house. He knew where to find his Changmin.
He couldn’t consciously recall the bus number, just knew which one he had to take. One he had taken every single day for years. The one that stopped right outside of the hospital.
Five quick stops later and he was stumbling awkwardly off the bus and into the sunny afternoon. Unused to moving his own body, unused to the light of the sun, unused to the warmth, unused to the sharp edges of real life around him.
Passing by a large dark window of a nearby building, he regretted the second it took for his eyes to flicker to his own reflection.
His feet stopped in their tracks. His own thin pale face, black hair long and messy, his own hollow soulless eyes. He was still himself, which meant he was really and truly awake.
Involuntary shivers ran up and down his spine as he realized what was happening. He was in the middle of a street he’d never been to before except in the recesses of his own mind. Yet it looked exactly the same. Everything, down to the last detail, the rusty bent letters of the sign hanging in front of the entrance to the park.
He was awake and he was in his dream world.
His heart skipped a few beats before it began racing in his chest. There was only one way to find out. And he only had one destination in mind.
His feet moved before he could even make a conscious decision. He walked purposely through the park gates, opening onto a path he’d walked countless times. One they had walked together, hand in hand, back to Changmin’s home.
The gravel path led him on, winding around the softly tinkling fountain, the one that glittered with sparks of sunlight and had reflected beautifully off of Changmin’s face when he had splashed water at him.
All in his dreams.
Continuing down the stone stairs, turning without thought to walk down the secluded pathway. The one that was a living hallway of green shadowy trees, leaves surrounding them in fresh vibrant air as they had kissed each other breathless.
In his dreams. Always in his dreams.
His steps didn’t falter, even as his gut clenched upon seeing the white gate. The one that lead to his house. Just like in his dreams. But this here wasn’t a dream. It was real. And he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
His hands were steady as they reached out almost mechanically, pushing the gate open, placing light feet upon the stone steps that rose towards the front door. It was all exactly the same. Seven steps. The third one cracked down the middle. He knew it like the back of his hand. And he was home.
Yet he knew, furiously screaming at himself that he knew, that he had never set foot in this place in his life.
He couldn’t see anything else except the soft cream-colored door looming before him now. Couldn’t hear anything except his own breath, so light it was almost nonexistent, almost stopped. It made his chest hurt.
And he was so, so scared.
His hands moved of their own accord, reaching behind the nailed copper numbers, #428, to wrap fingers around the cool metal of a hidden key. He slid it into the lock. Pushed the door open.
He stepped into the entry way, breath quickening as his heart began to pound. He would wake up any second now alone in his dark apartment. He knew he would wake up, since there was no way this could be possible.
His hand now shook as he reached in disbelief to run fingers along the edge of the vase of flowers resting on the table near the door. The soft yellow petals felt slightly dry on his fingertips as they drooped and broke from their stems.
He knew they were beginning to wilt since it had already been a few days since he’d placed them there himself. In his dreams.
But he couldn’t deny it at all. It was real.
Trembling more noticeably now, he snatched his hand away as it threatened to knock the glass over with the tremors. His heart was now thundering in his chest as breath left in soft puffs, gasps of air that filled the silence of the space.
If this was real… if it was all real… then… it couldn’t be…Changmin couldn’t be real, too, could he?
He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea, it was too crazy. This was all happening in his subconscious. He must still be asleep.
Jaejoong stumbled forward drunkenly, making his way into the living room. It was all here, just like it should be. And he almost choked as his eyes swept the room almost frantically, finding it empty. Of course it should be empty, no one would be here-
The sound of feet on the stairs froze him to the spot. He heard it so clearly. The irregular every third thump as the person half skipped, half walked down the flight. The thud of two feet on the landing. It was just the way he always came down. He knew the sound by heart.
But the steps suddenly stopped, and he heard a small intake of a breath. He couldn’t turn, couldn’t move. Not until he heard the voice. Changmin’s voice.
“W-who are you!? What are you doing in my house?”
Jaejoong couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe, didn’t know by what force he moved, but his body slowly turned. Time stopped. His heart must have stopped, too.
He was looking into those wide brown eyes, saw that sweet sweep of brown hair falling into them. He knew that soft pink mouth, lips now parted slightly with surprise. He knew that face so damned well. Yet he couldn’t believe his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.
Changmin stared back at him for a moment longer before he seemed to get over his shock; then his expression immediately darkened.
“How did you get in here? What do you want?” His voice was low, full of forced bravado, the tone he took when he was trying to be intimidating. The tone that always made Jaejoong want to push him down and kiss him senseless. Something he’d done…they’d done… so many times. But the other didn’t seem to recognize him.
Not getting a response, Changmin’s eyes scanned over him quickly, catching sight of the key now held loosely in Jaejoong’s powerless hand. The suspicion was clear on the younger man’s face, yet as Jaejoong continued to stare at him stupidly, silently, a hint of uncertainty crossed his features.
He couldn’t make sense of any of this. And he felt like he was going to be sick.
He somehow moved forward, legs feeling numb and barely able to support himself much longer. Changmin took a step back, the sliver of uncertainty growing. Another step back as Jaejoong drew closer.
He reached out his hand, not even sure what he was trying to do. Looking into those eyes, entreating, begging, needing something to calm the insanity slowly filing up his mind.
“Changmin-ah-”
The name left his lips an almost broken plea. Why was he looking at him like a complete stranger? Why was he looking at him with eyes that flickered with fear? Jaejoong saw it, and it sent a pain through his heart, but he didn’t know why it was there.
“H-how…how do you know my name? Who are you?” Changmin’s back had met the wall behind him, cutting off his retreat. His eyes were wide and his emotions clearly on display. Jaejoong couldn’t bear to see it.
He moved his hand, placing it tentatively against the man’s chest. Changmin sucked in a breath, but didn’t move, didn’t reject the touch, just as he knew he wouldn’t. He never defended himself even from strangers. Strangers like Jaejoong now was. But why?
“Changmin-ah.” He tried again, blinking quickly as sudden tears pooled in his eyes, threatening to blur his vision. “You’re real.” His hand was shaking. He curled his fingers into the fabric of Changmin’s shirt to ground himself, to verify that he was really here touching the love from his dreams. The heat from Changmin’s skin warmed his icy fingers. “How…”
He broke off as the sound of the door opening shattered the tense moment.
Changmin, who had been frozen before him, staring at him with wide wide eyes, seemed to snap back to himself with the noise.
His hand came up to wrap around Jaejoong’s wrist, pushing his hand away. Jaejoong swore the warmth of those fingers burned him with the rejection, but he couldn’t even process it as Changmin was looking over his shoulder at the person who’d entered the room.
“Hyung!” The desperate tone, the relief in his voice sent ice piercing through his heart, just as his brain caught up and seemed to short circuit at the sudden, horrible, terrifying possibility of what….of who… must be behind him.
He spun around quickly, heart in his throat.
It was him. Standing before him like an impossible ghost. It was him.
The air was all too suddenly too thin around him, his head swirled, the world swayed, and he slumped to the floor. But he was unable to tear his eyes away from that face. From those deep dark chocolate eyes.
The same eyes that had stared back at him in the mirror. The ones that were his. His own. Only in his dreams, his dream self, yes, but undeniably his. And the undeniable fact was that he’d dreamed this all. The person before him couldn’t really exist because he was a figment of imagination.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t fucking be real.
Right here and now, those same eyes were staring through him, sharp and unfathomable. That face…his face…mirrored none of the surprised shock that Jaejoong was struggling to breathe around; the other man seemed completely unfazed as those full curving lips parted in a soft smile.
“Joongie.”
It wasn’t possible. It was too much. This was a nightmare.
Jaejoong’s head dropped, hands clenching around his ears as a horrified wail spilled from his mouth, torn from him as all the desperate disbelief threatened to choke him.
He squeezed his eyes closed tightly, willing the room around him to disappear, willing those two impossibly real living bodies to fizzle back into smoke and wisps of imagination, safely unreal in the depths of his own head.
He was going crazy. He was already crazy. And he was so terrified. It was all inside his head. He was lost and torn from reality, whirling and falling inside himself.
The sound of screaming, his own cries, seemed so distant, from another world as he sped down into blackness, surrounded by sickening swirls of color, sticky and burning as they grabbed at his skin, at his hair, at his very soul.
Why wouldn’t he wake up? Why wouldn’t he fucking wake up?
He knew the hands clawing at his face were his own, desperately trying to rouse himself from this nightmare. But then something was seizing him around the wrists, dragging his hands away, pulling him against a warm chest. Arms slid around him. A heart….beat against his ear.
“No. No. No no no. Wake up, wake up, wake up. Please, wake up. Please. Wake up.” Words spilled from his mouth in an endless flow, muffled against the jacket of the one holding him.
The ‘shush’-ing noise filling his ear did nothing to calm his frantic thoughts and churning heart. He was sure he was going to die from a heart attack, he couldn’t bear this level of psychological strain much longer.
“Joongie, calm down. It’s okay.” The voice was deep and soothing, so definitely not his own, but he knew it just as well as his own. Had used it to speak himself.
It was that perfect voice. The way he’d always imagined, always wished his should be. The perfect man…with the perfect love…in a perfect life. But it was just a fantasy, a dream, or rather his own perverse pathetic delusions.
Because all of this was created, existed in the shadowy limbo removed from reality and trapped solely inside of dreams. But he was now stuck inside of it, unable to return back to himself in the real world.
“Shh.” A hand was stroking his back gently, rubbing comforting circles. And then there was another hesitant touch in his hair, fingers threading through the strands. And his heart ached because he knew that touch.
Not knowing where he gathered the strength to do so, he suddenly pushed against the embrace, unable to deny the sting of his eyes, the wetness on his cheeks. It all felt so real.
And Changmin was quickly sitting back, hand pulling away as Jaejoong turned wild desperate eyes to him. Changmin was really alive. A real person. And he really didn’t seem to have any idea who Jaejoong was. And his heart felt like it was breaking.
But then, warm hands were on his face, gently wiping away his tears. And, no. That was the thing that he couldn’t understand. He tore his eyes away from Changmin’s now confusedly apologetic eyes, turning to look directly into the other man’s face.
Himself. His dream self.
The man before him was so close, the deepness of those orbs seeming to stretch into forever, the look on that face so soft. He seemed to be looking into Jaejoong’s very soul, knowing him in and out, understanding his every last thought.
Jaejoong shook his head slowly. He wanted to deny it all, wanted some sort of logical explanation to clarify this hallucination. To prove it all wrong.
“Everything’s gona be okay.” He spoke, voice ever so warm and comforting. “I…finally found you.”
Jaejoong continued to shake his head weakly. “Who… what are you? How do you know me? Where…where is this, what’s going on?” His own voice was breathy and flimsy, a vulnerable child, scared and lost.
“I think you know the answers to those questions.” Came the soft response. But it confused him even more.
“No!” He wanted to scoot away, put more distance between them. “It doesn’t make any sense! I must be dreaming. It’s still a dream. You’re …a dream.” His shoulders shook despite himself; he knew he was breaking apart. “Just let me go, please.”
The other stared at him steadily, sadness tinting his eyes.
Changmin’s awkward whisper made those eyes temporarily flicker away from him. “Hyung…do you know him? What’s wrong with him?”
“Not now, Min.” The man replied, voice gentle yet full of authority. His gaze returned to Jaejoong. “You must feel really confused and upset.” Jaejoong couldn’t avoid the hand that came to brush away the hair that clung to his damp cheek. “Don’t worry. You’re not crazy. And this isn’t a dream. There’s…a reason for everything.” Those eyes seemed to dig deeper, penetrating him, mesmerizing him. “Don’t you remember?” A pause. “Don’t you remember when we first met?”
Jaejoong could only blink at the man helplessly. He didn’t know what he was talking about, and could only feel scared of the way the man’s voice and words seemed to instantly settle his churning stomach, soothing his burning nerves.
“B-but…you’re me, in a dream. You’re me.” He stuttered, although his certainty of this fact was fading by the minute.
Did he suffer from some disease? Amnesia? Had his “life” until now really been the dream, and now he was back in reality? Or had he somehow, perversely, been able to follow another person along through his life every time he fell asleep? Was everything not his own to begin with? Or was he not even really here right now?
As impossible as everything was, as much as he didn’t have a single explanation for anything, he was starting to lose his grasp. He wasn’t so sure anymore what was supposed to be real or not.
His dreams had been too realistic, and especially now that the two men who filled such dreams were breathing and alive before him, it could only mean he’d truly lost his mind. Most likely he was insane and unstable, locked away in some hospital, and didn’t even know it himself. His life until now, his day until now, it was all inside his sick head.
The man’s next words threw this comforting, plausible explanation, as horrible as it was, right out of the question.
“I know. But it’s not a dream.” The words were uttered along with the quirk of lips. “I wouldn’t even be here if not for you. I’m everything that you gave me.” That smile was so warm and gentle. “And Joongie… It’s all perfect. Everything you ever wanted. I’ve done it for you.” Dark chocolate eyes were shining, full of delight, happiness, and pride.
Jaejoong’s heart seemed to have stopped beating. It couldn’t be… That desperate, dark disgusting plea that had left him empty. Part of him torn right out, seeping away from his weak fingers as he let it go. As he begged it to go. As he wished it could replace him. Him who couldn’t surface from the clammy hands of self hate and rotting depression.
He should have just killed himself that day. Anything was better than this. Anything other than having part of him ripped out and living instead the life he couldn’t even hold in his own hands. Death was better than this half-life. Than this lie that was him.
His thoughts must have shown on his face. Or this…man…could read his thoughts. They were his thoughts anyway. They were the same person, anyway. The look he was given was full of troubled hurt…moving quickly to one of reproach.
“You don’t really wish that.”
Jaejoong didn’t miss the slight edge to that voice. Nor did Changmin. The younger man, silently watching them until now, moved slightly closer to the other, one hand reaching out to slip fingers between the other’s. Jaejoong’s heart ached more.
The stubborn pain in his chest was all he could feel. He couldn’t face his own reality, so he’d torn himself apart…had found sanctuary in letting himself go if only while he was unconscious. It was his only escape. Escape from his failure at life, escape from his own self.
But now…it had betrayed him. It had turned into something that he didn’t want to be real. He couldn’t face this reality that he’d made, that he desired with all his heart, that was his heaven, his love, his life… but that didn’t actually include him in it. There was no place for him here, the real him. There never had been.
“Joongie…” The man’s voice was full of warning. His eyes were dark. Just like Jaejoong’s heart.
Jaejoong looked at him, eyes wide, panic barely held at bay. If he wished it hard enough…would this all disappear? Could he take back what he’d given? Could he regain that part of his soul, his self, which now lived and breathed in a very human body before him…? Could he heal himself…and take over this life he’d forced another part of his own consciousness to create for himself?
Changmin was suddenly pushing between them, obviously unable to understand what was going on, but picking up on the undeniable hostility, a looming threat building between them that choked the air. He tried to shield the other with his own body, making Jaejoong the bad guy, making him the outsider and letting him know he wasn’t wanted.
Jaejoong’s eyes slid from the man who was now half concealed to look brokenly at the man he loved with all his heart, yet who didn’t even know who he even was. All the love they had shared.
Jaejoong knew every moment…knew every last secret of the man’s heart, every desire and fear, everything intimate both mental and physical. He knew and he loved, yet felt himself dying inside as those eyes continued to glare at him with a hard challenge.
“Why don’t you know me?” His voice came out pathetic and broken. “Why…why do I remember everything but you only know him? It wasn’t supposed to be real…none of it was real. It was me loving you. And it was real to me. It still is. But why don’t you even know me!?”
Changmin looked taken aback at the outburst, staring at him with disbelief all across his face. Jaejoong wanted to reach out to him, because with each moment that the younger man stared at him speechless, he felt the distance between them growing infinitely.
That was until he came suddenly crashing back down as Changmin’s voice came roughly dark and foul as he almost spat his words, “Get out of my house, you sick freak!”
“Yah! Changmin-ah!” The other man raised his voice for the first time, it was sharp with rebuke and Changmin turned to look back at him in confused surprise.
But the other wasn’t looking at him, he was staring straight back at Jaejoong with a sad apology shining in his dark eyes. “He didn’t mean that.” He soothed, making as if to move closer to Jaejoong. “He doesn’t realize what’s going on-”
“I did!” Changmin retorted. “I do mean it. I want him to get out!” Changmin was turning back to him now with an almost crazed pleading expression. His lower lip was trembling violently, and his fingers were clenched in the other man’s sleeve so tightly his knuckles were white.
The other opened his mouth to reply, but Jaejoong shook his head before he could speak. He didn’t want to hear any more. He didn’t want to see Changmin so upset anymore, and all because of him.
Somehow he got himself up on his feet, swaying dangerously as he looked down brokenly upon the man who held his heart and didn’t even know it.
How had this happened? How had everything gone so wrong?
“I was wrong to come here.” He whispered, seeking out Changmin’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry you don’t know me. I’m sorry I seemed to have lost you…right when I found it was possible to truly have you. “You won’t have to see me again.”
The two men kneeling on the floor were both watching him silently, one looking confused and angry, and the other looking so sorry and like he was about to cry. Jaejoong forced himself to turn away. To move in the direction of the door.
He had seen enough. Enough to know he shouldn’t be here. He didn’t have to understand it to accept it. And now, he really didn’t care what happened to him.
His shoulders were drooping and his body seemed unable to carry him away with the swift strong steps he desired. He had hardly made it more than three steps before he heard the sound of someone scrambling to their feet, and suddenly two voices called out from behind him at the same time.
“Jaejoong-hyung!”
“Jaejoong-ah, don’t go!”
He wasn’t sure which voice it was that stopped him in his tracks, or of how Changmin suddenly remembered his name. He wasn’t sure what to expect nor what was going on as he turned his head to see Changmin still on the floor, holding tight to the other man’s hand as he stood frozen, looking as if he had been about to follow Jaejoong.
The dark haired man was looking directly at Jaejoong, eyes desperate and pleading, the expression on his face almost terrified, while Changmin stared up blankly at the man he was hanging onto.
Changmin was the first to break the silence. “H-hyung?” That trembling lower lip that Jaejoong hated so much was back, making the younger’s whole face break with the effort of holding it back. “What…did you call him? Why-why do you have the same name?” His hands pulled on the man’s hand, seeming to beg for some sort of answer. “Who is he?”
The man didn’t move, didn’t look away from Jaejoong’s glassy eyes. Even when he began speaking to Changmin, he never once dropped that steady irresistible gaze. “Changmin-ah. I’m sorry, but I’m not who you think I am.”
Changmin’s weak ‘what’ was almost lost as Jaejoong’s heart was suddenly thundering in his ears.
The other continued to look at him, expression so soft and tender, the faintest of smiles gracing his curving lips as his hand moved to encase Changmin’s gently in his own.
Then he was turning to look down at the younger, affection filling his voice as he let that same loving gaze touch Changmin’s upturned face. “I love you very much, and I always will. But… I’m not your Jaejoong. I’m not the one you love. He is. And I know…”
He raised his head back to face Jaejoong again, and now those dark orbs burned with such strong emotion that Jaejoong felt his breath stick in his throat. "I know," he repeated softly, voice shimmering in the air between them, "because I love him, too."
*****
Part 2~~
A/N: geez, this is kinda a mess LOL ..but i hope its not too repetitive or..windy.. TT
i wrote it in the very early am, so i really wasn't all there or awake XD.
and the mystery guy is chunnie.. if u got confused . ~XD
Free Counter~~