[Fic] Hanging on that shadow of your reality - Part 2
Title: Hanging on that shadow of your reality
Pairing(s): Jaechunmin
Length: 2/3
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?
Part 1
A/N:s omg, i cant believe this part is longer than 10 pages = = my chapters usually average 4 pages. LOL but id rather not cut this up anyway :) so prepare yourself for some longness. and angst. lots of it. :)
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."
****
The words that hung in the air were heavier than the silence that pressed against them.
Changmin could only stare blankly up at his hyung. Nothing that he’d heard made any sort of sense, and the deep unfathomable look in those eyes was so unreadable and foreign that it terrified him. He’d never seen that look on his hyung’s face before, and didn’t know what it meant.
The man above him broke their gaze, turning to look imploringly at the man a few steps away. The one he’d said Changmin loved. The one who had said he loved Changmin just a few minutes before.
Changmin didn’t know which of them had gone crazy, and was panicking to find that he wasn’t sure that it wasn’t himself. Desperately, he turned his head to look again at the person standing next to them who was swaying on his feet, a haunted look in his eyes.
He stared at him, mind going blank. And although he wanted to look away from those black eyes, he found his gaze lingering. For some reason he felt deeply troubled. Something was wrong.
Because something about this pale, dark, beautiful man felt so…familiar. Felt so important. The man looked so fragile as if he’d break should one touch him too roughly, and the thought sent a pang through him although he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.
He gave a start and tore his eyes away as his hyung was speaking again. The deep timbre of his voice taking on a hushed almost pleading tone, and Changmin couldn’t believe his ears as his Jaejoong, his one and only hyung, began desperately explaining that he was really someone named Park Yoochun, a musician who’d been pronounced indefinitely comatose until now.
And it was so absurd and almost hysterically psychotic that Changmin started to cry.
How had he missed his lovers descent into insanity? When had this disease laid its clutches on his brain, twisting his awareness of reality and his self? What could he have done differently to have prevented this from happening?
There was no feeling more helpless, terrifying, and horrible than seeing that earnest expression of his lover trying to convince him he was someone else entirely. That he had always been. And that the frail man between them had somehow been living through him all this time.
It didn’t make any sense. It was either pure bullshit, or the man had really gone crazy, and Changmin found himself huddled on the floor bawling his eyes out as he tried desperately to block out the sounds of that voice, the one that was breaking his heart as it seemed the Jaejoong he knew and loved was gone.
He couldn’t bear to hear the words the man uttered, just as he couldn’t bear to just sit and watch as he went even more crazy right before his own eyes. And he was staggering to his feet to wrap his arms tightly around the man’s neck. Hugging him so fiercely it hurt, as he brokenly begged him to stop, pleaded for him to come to his senses and to not leave him this way.
The man stopped talking and just held him, and Changmin frantically shoved away the thoughts that flooded his head as for some reason the arms around him felt so awkward, as if they didn’t know how to hold him anymore, and before he could decide what the hell that meant, he felt another pair of arms slipping around him, sliding between the spot his body pressed against his hyung, and tugging him gently but firmly back against a thin body.
And it hurt the way fresh, now uncontrollable, sobs tore at his throat. Because it didn’t make any sense. Because the man enveloping him in a loving embrace was a complete stranger. Yet he knew this touch as it was the only thing he craved, the only thing he needed to live, the only way Jaejoong had always held him.
His eyes were squeezed closed and he didn’t dare open them. Only wanting to just feel as he let his arms fall away from the man he’d just been hugging so desperately. He only wanted to feel that hug from behind, as it was the one he was searching for, expecting, and he couldn’t bear to see that the person giving it was not who it should be.
He let himself be turned, his head sinking into the space under the man’s jaw, against the side of his neck. The smell of his skin was unknown and thus frightening in its foreignness. Again, Changmin tried to blunt his senses, to block it out as the only thing he knew that was right was this embrace, and he clung to the man with all his strength.
The man was speaking to him, soothing and sweet, trying to calm him down as Changmin quickly began to run out of energy. Emotions had hit him like a violent storm, sweeping through him devastatingly destroying all in its path before leaving him battered and shell-shocked behind.
Soon he found that he was lying exhausted within the circle of those arms, face buried in the protection of warm skin. It was so he wouldn’t have to see the way his world had literally fallen apart before his eyes.
It was then he slowly began to understand the words that were filling his ears. The man was talking in gentle swells and dips, rocking him in a sea of calm as he was telling him a story. And as he listened he realized it was the same story he had written into his own heart. It was their story, and as he realized what that meant he couldn’t stop the hiccupping whimper that left his chapped lips as new tears materialized in his eyes.
He wasn’t sure when he had accepted it, or started to believe it, as he struggled so fiercely to deny it all, but he already knew, somehow, that Jaejoong was here holding him. That this man was really his Jaejoong, though he still couldn’t understand how he’d switched bodies.
He needed reasons, explanations, and the safety of solid truth he could trust. And he was suddenly pulling away, moving blindly to press his lips against the others, a vulnerable plea to be shown some proof, to be given some reprieve, to verify his love was in the right place.
As the other kissed him back, all intoxicating warmth and heartbreaking gentleness, something fell into place and his heart throbbed. As he let the other tug him closer and press more deeply into his mouth his whole body shuddered. And he was pulling back again, opening his eyes to look into the face he didn’t recognize.
But now he saw it. There in his eyes. That same sweet fragility, that same glittering warmth, that same softness of a man so helplessly in love. And he knew those eyes. So beautiful and so right. And his voice broke as he could hardly manage more than a whisper.
“Hyung …how? Why…did you do this to yourself?”
And although the sad smile on that face was so gorgeous and new, the familiar sheen to those eyes and the raw emotion in them were all he could see.
“Sweetie, I’m so sorry.” A hand slid up his back and sunk gently into his hair. A small piece of his chilled heart seemed to start to grow warm again. “I…am so scared of the world. I am such a coward.” Fingers tightened around his locks and he could feel the way the man trembled. He could only stare back into those eyes.
The voice that continued was so low and full of anguish, the sound bleeding itself agonizingly through each syllable. “I couldn’t face…anything. As myself. I don’t want to be who, what I really am. Me being like this, I couldn’t… I could never really have you. And you would never have…loved me.”
Changmin didn’t know what to do as clear crystalline tears pooled in those dark eyes. The next words past those soft lips were so quiet he almost didn’t hear them. “I didn’t even do it on purpose. I don’t know how this happened. I thought…you were a dream.”
He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard those last words that floated light as thought through the air. But he caught them, drawing them in as he breathed in a slow deep breath. They were warm…they seeped golden heat down through his aching heart.
He never could express it…the deep earnest throb…And he needed his hyung to understand. He didn’t want only the beautiful things…only half…he wanted the real thing. And everything. And he couldn’t believe he hadn’t had it or known it before, or that he now had it in front of him now.
There was no way this beautiful man could really believe the cutting words he’d just uttered about himself. Because the other should have known by now how madly, crazily, and irreversibly Changmin had fallen. His hands clenched into the thin shirt as he nearly choked on his own words. “But…I love you.”
Changmin had never before seen such a darkness like what now filled up those eyes. A chilling hard emptiness, like a black hole, and it terrified him. His fingers tightened in the fabric.
“Hyung.” He tried again. “I love you. Can’t you see? I want you. All of you. I need all of you. Please don’t…take that away from me.”
Jaejoong stared at him sadly, as if it pained him to hear the words. As if he didn’t believe him. And Changmin slid his arms up to twist around the man’s neck, tugging him ever so carefully against his chest, cradling him reverently as if he were made of glass. As if he would shatter into pieces. Because Changmin was scared of the deep cracks he could see lancing through him already.
Warm breath slid across his collar bone.
“Why didn’t you tell me…?” It wasn’t an accusation. It was letting him know that he understood everything, more than the other could know. He understood and it pained him that his hyung thought so little of himself, would hurt himself, would tear himself to ragged pieces rather than give himself, the good and the bad, to him whole.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispered again. He never wanted to let go of the alarmingly fragile form. It was a side of Jaejoong he’d never actually experienced firsthand, yet somehow he knew it. Somehow he had known it was there underneath. And now that he had it, the man in his whole entirety, he was too wonderful and amazing to let go. “Hyung… you…the real you…like this…you’re perfect. Just like this.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, the wet warmth that pricked at his skin enough of an answer.
“Please. Just let me take care of you. Let me love you.” He tightened his arms as a muffled sound tumbled brokenly from the other. “Don’t you ever…hide yourself from me because I don’t want anything but you.”
Changmin gave a start as arms tightened around his waist, surprising him with their sudden strength and the intensity of the heat that seemed to burn his skin with ripples of heady light every place they touched.
“Changmin-ah.” A muffled sob. “I just love you so much. And I’m so sorry.”
And he responded to that the only way he knew how, dropping his lips to press against silky black hair.
It was many minutes, melting into hours, that they stayed like that. Nothing was more important, nothing more perfect. It wasn’t until Changmin realized that Jaejoong had fallen asleep against him that he opened his eyes and lifted his head from its place where he’d been resting it against the other’s.
The room had dimmed about them considerably, announcing the oncoming darkness as the sun sank from the sky, and he shivered slightly as cool air met his heated face.
Looking around the room as he couldn’t put his finger on something that somehow felt to be missing, Changmin’s stomach suddenly seemed to drop. There should have been another person there… there should have been the familiar physical form of the man he’d loved all these years…the one who now called himself Yoochun.
Somehow he had forgotten about the other man in the midst of the turmoil within himself and in figuring out what had happened. But the room was empty save for the two of them curled on the floor.
His eyes jumped around the room again, frantically, in slight disbelief. He didn’t know what was really going on, still didn’t have an explanation as to how this whole situation had actually happened, or to who the other man was, but his blood ran cold as the possibilities of the unknown churned various ideas through his semi-panicking brain.
It wasn’t until his desperate eyes fell upon the large framed photo hanging on the wall above the piano that his search came to an end. The two smiling faces were only too clear. The photo they’d taken together on their last anniversary.
He knew with unyielding certainty that the man who he’d been with and shared that moment with was none other than Jaejoong, the man currently tucked into his arms. But then who was the man in the picture? The one with the blinding smile topped with those curving half-moon eyes. The smile he had come to love so much.
Changmin didn’t know what to do with the sudden hole in his heart that continued to tear itself larger in sharp ragged tugs the longer he sat staring at that picture.
That smiling man…Yoochun… was gone. But he shouldn’t be. Although he didn’t understand the torrent of emotion that racked his heart, he knew with full certainty that he shouldn’t be.
*****
*****
Somehow Yoochun knew everything that happened to him even as he lay trapped behind an impenetrable wall within his own mind, unable to break through it and connect back to the real world, unable to wake to consciousness. It seemed like forever since he’d been stuck in a softly floating nothingness.
At times he could hear snatches of voices. Words echoing to him like soft ripples on still water. There. Just barely there. Like the faintest touch of fingertips on his mind. But as much as he heard it, he couldn’t quite comprehend it.
But those fleeting slips of the real world into his heavy comatose brain were hardly of any importance to him. He knew there was nothing waiting for him should he open his eyes. Nothing worth living for. Which is why he just let them stay shut.
He knew he was powerless to whatever decisions may be made about his hardly functioning body, but couldn’t form consecutive strings of thoughts. Couldn’t form real ideas that were comprehensible enough to make him care about that anymore. He wasn’t even really capable of caring. Or even feeling.
He was just existing.
No. He couldn’t care less about his body or the dim hospital room it had lain in for years. That life didn’t even seem to be his anymore, his body just there while he was somewhere else entirely.
Maybe this was because his clearest moments were actually not even his.
All he knew was that for periods at a time, someone else controlled his own body. Another presence slipped into his mind, gently pushing him further into the fuzzy nothingness which wrapped him in a blanketing cocoon.
He was just barely there, seeing through his eyes which another consciousness opened, feeling his body move as another mind controlled it. He was there just watching, just feeling, as his body rose from the bed time after time, leaving the hospital behind as the man filling his mind led them out to let the sun taste pale skin, to let the wind caress grown-long hair, to let love and passion heat up his frail body and bloom within his waning soul.
It was like he was watching a very realistic movie. Able to experience and feel the whole ordeal as an aftershock, almost as one would recall a memory. Hints of colors, tastes, and emotions.
The life they lived was fulfilling and radiant. The presence, he soon came to know as Jaejoong, was bursting with life and had so much love to give. There was no end to his playful energy, his confident demeanor, and his endlessly sweet and giving nature.
It was if there wasn’t a single bad cell in his body, and he poured it out upon anything his eyes lay upon. It seemed everything was possible to him, everything was beautiful and full of goodness. Even flowers in the garden seemed to glow under his touch.
So who was Yoochun to deny this man the use of a body he didn’t even want?
He welcomed Jaejoong every time. Letting himself sink deeper and deeper into the far recesses of his own mind. Until the only thing he could really grasp and understand, the only vague reality that he knew was that soft accompanying presence.
It was only a matter of time before this became his everything. It was only as simple as breathing that he fell in love with the person who breathed new and impossible life into him.
And that was how Yoochun had finally become greedy again.
It had started as a spark. The faintest of desires. Simple yet so basically essential, that he found himself clinging to it as if it were his only life line. Which it in actuality was.
As it grew stronger, he found himself inching ever so painfully slowly forward. Pulling himself up from the pits of nowhere, up and back towards where that wall that separated him from consciousness now lay in ruins.
He wasn’t sure where it had gone, or how it was gone, but suddenly he was feeling the heaviness of laying in his own body. He was actually in his own body. He was alive, and he was slowly waking up.
And all because he had somehow regained a purpose and burning need to live. He had to. He needed to. He wanted to. Because he had fallen so desperately in love and he knew that no one else was there to save the person who was just as broken and dying as himself.
Because only he knew the truth. He knew the bursting sunshine that was Jaejoong was a white lie, that the man was actually suffering deeply, dark and half-dead. That the man was putting everything good and positive into those moments they lived as one, through him.
Only he knew that the black to Jaejoong’s white, the devil to his angel, was getting stronger with every day that passed. And because this shining angel was the way Jaejoong used to be, Yoochun had become an embodiment of a second chance for the other. Except that time was running out. Nothing could stop the blackness that crept over them in a sinister cloud.
Therefore, the desire to find the man, to heal and protect him, was so strong and almost primal, that Yoochun could hardly refuse or question it. Jaejoong had brought him back to life, and the other now needed him to do the same in return.
There was nothing that would stop him from treasuring and returning such a precious gift, because somewhere along the line he knew they had melded together. The broken shards of their souls impossibly fitting together so perfectly that it was as if they were one again. They had been one. Living together a beautiful sweet life. Through his body, with Jaejoong’s guiding consciousness.
And it had worked so well. Too well. It was why it couldn’t last. Not when what both of them really needed was to be back in their own bodies. Neither of them could continue to live through each other as much as Yoochun now wished it was possible.
The incredible link they had shared…no it couldn’t be explained, and he never wanted to try. He didn’t need to. Because he’d never again wanted to share that with anyone. He knew Jaejoong more intimately than he could ever know another human. Even more than Changmin, the man they’d both fell in love with together, both lived with and loved together, because he had felt all the strong emotions Jaejoong had for the younger as if they were his own.
So that first moment when he had finally woken up was one of the most lonely, empty moments of Yoochun’s life. He was stripped bare of everything he’d known, and felt utterly lost.
He had opened his eyes so slowly, not wanting to leave the safety of his subconscious, the place where he’d stayed to allow Jaejoong in. But it was already gone forever, that soft press of the other man in his mind. It was only him, himself. Just Yoochun. And his eyes stung.
It was like a shock of ice cold water, burning as well as instantly numbing, because that irresistible intoxicating lure of the other presence, the broken soul to his broken body, was completely gone. He felt weak and exposed without it. And again, so incredibly alone.
Jaejoong was gone, but he was awake. And it could only mean one thing. It meant he was finally, and truly, awake.
And as much as he knew he could never get back that closeness, there was a new spark of hope, a thrilling excitement as he slowly became aware of the possibilities of being conscious. Jaejoong was out there somewhere. Just waiting for him to find him. The real him. And he knew that was why he had woken up. He knew it was what he had to do.
Because he knew that Jaejoong, his Jaejoong, was barely holding on. Strung up by the thinnest gossamer thread, he was closer to letting go than anything else. And it broke his heart. He couldn’t bear the thought, and wanted to reach out and wrap his own hands around the man firmly, keeping him back, keeping him here. With him.
He knew he might actually be crazy, who wouldn’t after having been near brain dead for years on end, but he believed the other man was real, that their connection was real, and that everything had really happened.
As much as he hadn’t seen it consciously, he’d seen it with his own eyes, and trusted in it blindly. He needed to find him as quick as possible. Find him before the other gave up. But he didn’t have a single lead or the faintest idea of how he could possibly track him down. Jaejoong had always been the one to come to him.
They had never actually communicated with each other, yet just sharing the same body was enough to understand and feel each other more intimately than humanly possible. It really was an impossible situation, but Yoochun didn’t care. He would gladly go insane if it meant Jaejoong and the life they had made was real.
He left the hospital on slightly unsteady feet. Although he’d apparently been up and about at least once a day according to the records tacked up in his room, it had never been under his own power and he’d somehow lost his confidence in his own body.
Shuffling along like the recovering invalid that he was, Yoochun finally stood outside of the large building. The street was bustling and full of life around him, people passing him by without a glance, and Yoochun was struck all at once from every direction as his senses were overloaded.
It was amazing to feel so alive, and at the same time it was too overwhelming. He knew he was feeling exactly how Jaejoong must feel at times, easily understanding why the man lived so secluded and hid himself away.
Sucking in great breaths of air did well to quickly release the tight choked feeling in his chest, and he hardly waited for his heartbeat to steady again before he was moving towards the bus stop.
A few minutes later and a bus pulled up, expelling passengers as the front door opened and the elderly driver looked down at him past the steps. The welcoming smile and tilt of the snowy white hat was all Yoochun needed to see to understand that this was his bus.
He sunk into his own thoughts as the bus sped along, almost missing his stop. He wasn’t sure why but a feeling of nervous anticipation grew within him steadily as he made his way along the path towards where Changmin lived.
He tried not to get his hopes up, that it was almost certain that Jaejoong still hadn’t left his house, let alone been able to find his way here. After all how was he to know Jaejoong even remembered everything they’d been through? Yoochun was able to recall it all as warm hazy memories, general pictures and smells and sounds, as well as specific conversations or moments.
He had only assumed that the other man had been the same. His feet seemed to betray his nervous energy and he found himself tripping over them as he tried to walk faster.
Unable to push away the thoughts he didn’t want to entertain, Yoochun felt his breath grow shorter and shorter, but not on any account of his stumbling pace.
What if Jaejoong didn’t remember it at all? Or…worse. That single thought was all it took, and it bled into his mind like ink, staining everything dark and sticky and it was like sinking his hands into the blackness. He couldn’t get it off of him, it melded to him like a disease and he couldn’t breathe.
Because it was so entirely possible that Jaejoong didn’t exist at all.
He’d seen his own health reports. He’d spent five long days under strict medical monitoring that he’d filled with reading the long and sometimes detailed accounts of his various waking moments throughout the past years.
The doctor personally assigned to his case had managed to record some of their conversations on tape even, and Yoochun had felt his spine crawl with horrid bodiless fingers as Jaejoong spoke through the speakers in his own voice. It was eerie yet thrilling at the same time. Because he had thought that now that he was awake and rational, Jaejoong must be too. And he hardly dared to hope, but was unable to stop thinking that maybe the other was looking for him too.
But now. All of those optimistic ideas seemed completely foolish and just plain out irrational.
The doctors had thought he’d had a very detached split personality. One that had manifested somehow due to the high psychological stress of being comatose for such a long time. As doctors wanting to concretely explain all physical and medical phenomena down to the last detail, they had come to the conclusion that his mind had been able to split the personality even when he was technically unconscious, leaving one personality still able to consciously act. And although he was the first case of his kind in all of human history, they adamantly declared that the brain was an amazing thing, and that such things were not impossible.
But Yoochun wanted their theory to be impossible. Because deep down he knew he couldn’t fool himself. He knew that the explanation he had for himself, that of another person possessing his consciousness, was lunatic and what was actually impossible.
Yoochun blinked back the tears in his eyes and focused on the white gate before him. He had already arrived but had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t seen the world before him.
He resolutely wiped at his wet face, and made his way up the stairs. He had only gotten halfway before there was a shout and suddenly a body that was all long legs and boney arms was barreling into him, clutching him tightly against a heaving chest as Changmin cried in his ear. A jumble of words and questions pelted against him like bullets and Yoochun found himself having a hard time picking out the meaning.
Changmin was suddenly pulling back, bringing his tear streaked face into view, and Yoochun’s heart clenched at the way the younger’s mouth turned down, leaking sob after sob, as tears continued to roll down his cheeks in large glittering drops.
His hands were on the man’s face before he knew it, wiping at the tears futilely as more just replaced the ones he caught.
“Min, I’m so sorry.” He breathed as Changmin bit his bottom lip weakly in an attempt to control himself. But Yoochun just reached out for him instead, wrapping fingers around his shoulders which were so warm they almost felt hot.
He was hugging him tightly the next moment as Changmin continued to cry softly onto his shoulder, speaking between each gasp of air. “Hyung! I thought -something horrible happened. It’s been-a week and-you just disappeared. And I’ve never been-without you-before-didn’t know what-happened. ”
Yoochun let his fingers slide through the other’s hair soothingly, waiting silently for a few more minutes until Changmin had calmed down and then they were just standing there quietly holding each other in soft warmth.
His lips found the side of Changmin’s neck and he left soft butterflies there as he apologized again, knowing only too well how distraught the younger must have been after he just disappeared suddenly. He wished he could have come sooner, but at least he wasn’t too late.
And as the other turned his head he captured his lips in a kiss. The soft skin of those lips was hot and sweet like always, and Yoochun lost himself in the achingly familiar feel of the kisses. He now realized only too easily why all of Jaejoong’s feelings for Changmin had been so strong.
He was irresistible and nothing but honey on his tongue, and the long fingers that slid through his hair and across his cheek felt like the most intimate touch he’d ever felt.
He loved Changmin dearly, he knew he always had. And although he hated himself for thinking it, he almost could accept that should Jaejoong really be only a part of his own mind, it would be alright since he’d found the innocent sweetness that was Changmin.
Yet as much as he realized he was okay with that, he couldn’t help but hope that if Changmin was real like this, then so Jaejoong would be.
It was only two short days later that he was able to see firsthand that he had been right.
Although he realized the moment he laid eyes upon the gorgeous dark haired man standing beside Changmin that it was Jaejoong, he was surprised that he’d never wondered at how the other had looked.
And now that he saw him, so strikingly beautiful in an achingly sad and wistful way, he hadn’t believed it possible that he could fall any deeper in love than he already was.
But as he met those soulful eyes that day, he felt himself falling and falling fast.
He had tried his best to let Jaejoong know who he was, and what he meant to him, but the man was more fragile and broken than he’d thought he’d known, and the way he fell apart before him broke his heart so painfully that he could hardly breathe anymore when Changmin then fell to pieces in his arms.
So, like the weak useless coward that he was, he ran away.
He told himself it was because he was no longer needed. It was because Jaejoong had finally found the person he had dreamed of, the one he was looking for, and he had obviously never thought about Yoochun at all. Not the way that Yoochun had about him.
It had cut him to the core to see how Jaejoong saw him as nothing but a creation from a dream. The way Jaejoong had looked at him with such open fear and denial. The way he read those eyes that hadn’t wanted to see him, hadn’t wanted him to exist at all.
And the way that Jaejoong had looked at Changmin the way he always had, with love pouring from every fiber of his being.
And even though he loved them both, he hadn’t realized nor prepared himself for the possibility that they could reject him. It hadn’t ever crossed his mind that, to them, he might be nobody. But he couldn’t blame them. He was nothing more than a messenger, a vessel that had helped them to be together.
It was almost funny at how pathetic he was. But he couldn’t stop the tears that wet his face.
Yoochun sat stiffly in his old hospital room. He smiled wryly as he realized how incredibly more than pathetic he was being. At how ridiculous his request for admittance to the room had been. But it was the only place he felt comfortable and at home. The only place he’d known these past years aside from Changmin’s house.
He never could have predicted the way his life had spun out of control. Down a violently twisting track, each turn a whirlwind of adrenaline and heart stopping blanks. He wondered bitterly if he had made a terrible mistake, unable to stop the pain that filled his heart as his mind silently answered that yes he had.
He never should have woken up from his coma.
No. Not when waking up had caused him to lose what little he had in exchange for such a broken life. Not when it only meant he would intrude upon a beautiful love story that was no longer his.
His hands ran over the smooth fabric of the comforter. His fingers were thinner, more boney than he remembered, and he pressed the pads of them down gently. An urge to press down against ivory keys was a sharp longing that nearly knocked him breathless.
It had been too long. As much as music hadn’t been strong enough to entice him back into the world of the living, now that he was back…it was his first and only comfort. He ached to feel notes gliding along his nerves, caressing the searing ache that was his soul.
Yoochun lowered himself upon the bed until he could press his face to the cool material. No color, no smell, no feeling. The room was like a soothing balm to his tattered self.
Despite everything he knew about the situation, he felt so unwanted, so unneeded. Here was something that he had helped to make, had fallen for himself, moments shared between lovers, but in reality between which he had no part.
Between which he didn’t really exist, and for the years that he’d been together with both of them, watching over their love, acting out their love on behalf of Jaejoong, if only just providing his physical body, he knew he didn’t belong there.
Neither of them loved him, Park Yoochun, and neither of them had known he actually existed until now.
They didn’t need him and the thought terrified him so deeply he could hardly breathe. Because he needed them so badly he would rather remain comatose forever than have to continue his life without that lanky tall smart ass by his side and that bumbling sweetheart wrapped in his arms.
He loved them both so much, and knew with his mind and heart every last minute they’d shared together. He’d been with them the whole time, he’d gone through each moment together. Yet what was he to them? What could he possibly do? Where could he fit in? How could they bear to let him, a stranger, into their perfectly constructed life of love?
Yet at the same time that guilt ate him up from inside, Yoochun had a sneaking suspicion that their connection couldn’t have continued on for much longer. And the feeling only became more resolute as he remembered only too clearly the two sobbing shaking figures that had huddled on the floor before him not three hours ago.
Jaejoong needed healing, and Changmin needed loving. And who was he to give it to them when they had each other?
He hadn’t decided if he’d really given up yet or not, as he still wasn’t able to completely abandon the flicker of hope that there could be even the smallest sliver of space left within their hearts into which he could slip into.
He hoped with every last shred of his breaking heart that there would be, yet knew that today would probably become the last time that he would have ever seen them.
**************
next part
Pairing(s): Jaechunmin
Length: 2/3
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?
Part 1
A/N:s omg, i cant believe this part is longer than 10 pages = = my chapters usually average 4 pages. LOL but id rather not cut this up anyway :) so prepare yourself for some longness. and angst. lots of it. :)
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."
****
The words that hung in the air were heavier than the silence that pressed against them.
Changmin could only stare blankly up at his hyung. Nothing that he’d heard made any sort of sense, and the deep unfathomable look in those eyes was so unreadable and foreign that it terrified him. He’d never seen that look on his hyung’s face before, and didn’t know what it meant.
The man above him broke their gaze, turning to look imploringly at the man a few steps away. The one he’d said Changmin loved. The one who had said he loved Changmin just a few minutes before.
Changmin didn’t know which of them had gone crazy, and was panicking to find that he wasn’t sure that it wasn’t himself. Desperately, he turned his head to look again at the person standing next to them who was swaying on his feet, a haunted look in his eyes.
He stared at him, mind going blank. And although he wanted to look away from those black eyes, he found his gaze lingering. For some reason he felt deeply troubled. Something was wrong.
Because something about this pale, dark, beautiful man felt so…familiar. Felt so important. The man looked so fragile as if he’d break should one touch him too roughly, and the thought sent a pang through him although he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.
He gave a start and tore his eyes away as his hyung was speaking again. The deep timbre of his voice taking on a hushed almost pleading tone, and Changmin couldn’t believe his ears as his Jaejoong, his one and only hyung, began desperately explaining that he was really someone named Park Yoochun, a musician who’d been pronounced indefinitely comatose until now.
And it was so absurd and almost hysterically psychotic that Changmin started to cry.
How had he missed his lovers descent into insanity? When had this disease laid its clutches on his brain, twisting his awareness of reality and his self? What could he have done differently to have prevented this from happening?
There was no feeling more helpless, terrifying, and horrible than seeing that earnest expression of his lover trying to convince him he was someone else entirely. That he had always been. And that the frail man between them had somehow been living through him all this time.
It didn’t make any sense. It was either pure bullshit, or the man had really gone crazy, and Changmin found himself huddled on the floor bawling his eyes out as he tried desperately to block out the sounds of that voice, the one that was breaking his heart as it seemed the Jaejoong he knew and loved was gone.
He couldn’t bear to hear the words the man uttered, just as he couldn’t bear to just sit and watch as he went even more crazy right before his own eyes. And he was staggering to his feet to wrap his arms tightly around the man’s neck. Hugging him so fiercely it hurt, as he brokenly begged him to stop, pleaded for him to come to his senses and to not leave him this way.
The man stopped talking and just held him, and Changmin frantically shoved away the thoughts that flooded his head as for some reason the arms around him felt so awkward, as if they didn’t know how to hold him anymore, and before he could decide what the hell that meant, he felt another pair of arms slipping around him, sliding between the spot his body pressed against his hyung, and tugging him gently but firmly back against a thin body.
And it hurt the way fresh, now uncontrollable, sobs tore at his throat. Because it didn’t make any sense. Because the man enveloping him in a loving embrace was a complete stranger. Yet he knew this touch as it was the only thing he craved, the only thing he needed to live, the only way Jaejoong had always held him.
His eyes were squeezed closed and he didn’t dare open them. Only wanting to just feel as he let his arms fall away from the man he’d just been hugging so desperately. He only wanted to feel that hug from behind, as it was the one he was searching for, expecting, and he couldn’t bear to see that the person giving it was not who it should be.
He let himself be turned, his head sinking into the space under the man’s jaw, against the side of his neck. The smell of his skin was unknown and thus frightening in its foreignness. Again, Changmin tried to blunt his senses, to block it out as the only thing he knew that was right was this embrace, and he clung to the man with all his strength.
The man was speaking to him, soothing and sweet, trying to calm him down as Changmin quickly began to run out of energy. Emotions had hit him like a violent storm, sweeping through him devastatingly destroying all in its path before leaving him battered and shell-shocked behind.
Soon he found that he was lying exhausted within the circle of those arms, face buried in the protection of warm skin. It was so he wouldn’t have to see the way his world had literally fallen apart before his eyes.
It was then he slowly began to understand the words that were filling his ears. The man was talking in gentle swells and dips, rocking him in a sea of calm as he was telling him a story. And as he listened he realized it was the same story he had written into his own heart. It was their story, and as he realized what that meant he couldn’t stop the hiccupping whimper that left his chapped lips as new tears materialized in his eyes.
He wasn’t sure when he had accepted it, or started to believe it, as he struggled so fiercely to deny it all, but he already knew, somehow, that Jaejoong was here holding him. That this man was really his Jaejoong, though he still couldn’t understand how he’d switched bodies.
He needed reasons, explanations, and the safety of solid truth he could trust. And he was suddenly pulling away, moving blindly to press his lips against the others, a vulnerable plea to be shown some proof, to be given some reprieve, to verify his love was in the right place.
As the other kissed him back, all intoxicating warmth and heartbreaking gentleness, something fell into place and his heart throbbed. As he let the other tug him closer and press more deeply into his mouth his whole body shuddered. And he was pulling back again, opening his eyes to look into the face he didn’t recognize.
But now he saw it. There in his eyes. That same sweet fragility, that same glittering warmth, that same softness of a man so helplessly in love. And he knew those eyes. So beautiful and so right. And his voice broke as he could hardly manage more than a whisper.
“Hyung …how? Why…did you do this to yourself?”
And although the sad smile on that face was so gorgeous and new, the familiar sheen to those eyes and the raw emotion in them were all he could see.
“Sweetie, I’m so sorry.” A hand slid up his back and sunk gently into his hair. A small piece of his chilled heart seemed to start to grow warm again. “I…am so scared of the world. I am such a coward.” Fingers tightened around his locks and he could feel the way the man trembled. He could only stare back into those eyes.
The voice that continued was so low and full of anguish, the sound bleeding itself agonizingly through each syllable. “I couldn’t face…anything. As myself. I don’t want to be who, what I really am. Me being like this, I couldn’t… I could never really have you. And you would never have…loved me.”
Changmin didn’t know what to do as clear crystalline tears pooled in those dark eyes. The next words past those soft lips were so quiet he almost didn’t hear them. “I didn’t even do it on purpose. I don’t know how this happened. I thought…you were a dream.”
He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard those last words that floated light as thought through the air. But he caught them, drawing them in as he breathed in a slow deep breath. They were warm…they seeped golden heat down through his aching heart.
He never could express it…the deep earnest throb…And he needed his hyung to understand. He didn’t want only the beautiful things…only half…he wanted the real thing. And everything. And he couldn’t believe he hadn’t had it or known it before, or that he now had it in front of him now.
There was no way this beautiful man could really believe the cutting words he’d just uttered about himself. Because the other should have known by now how madly, crazily, and irreversibly Changmin had fallen. His hands clenched into the thin shirt as he nearly choked on his own words. “But…I love you.”
Changmin had never before seen such a darkness like what now filled up those eyes. A chilling hard emptiness, like a black hole, and it terrified him. His fingers tightened in the fabric.
“Hyung.” He tried again. “I love you. Can’t you see? I want you. All of you. I need all of you. Please don’t…take that away from me.”
Jaejoong stared at him sadly, as if it pained him to hear the words. As if he didn’t believe him. And Changmin slid his arms up to twist around the man’s neck, tugging him ever so carefully against his chest, cradling him reverently as if he were made of glass. As if he would shatter into pieces. Because Changmin was scared of the deep cracks he could see lancing through him already.
Warm breath slid across his collar bone.
“Why didn’t you tell me…?” It wasn’t an accusation. It was letting him know that he understood everything, more than the other could know. He understood and it pained him that his hyung thought so little of himself, would hurt himself, would tear himself to ragged pieces rather than give himself, the good and the bad, to him whole.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispered again. He never wanted to let go of the alarmingly fragile form. It was a side of Jaejoong he’d never actually experienced firsthand, yet somehow he knew it. Somehow he had known it was there underneath. And now that he had it, the man in his whole entirety, he was too wonderful and amazing to let go. “Hyung… you…the real you…like this…you’re perfect. Just like this.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, the wet warmth that pricked at his skin enough of an answer.
“Please. Just let me take care of you. Let me love you.” He tightened his arms as a muffled sound tumbled brokenly from the other. “Don’t you ever…hide yourself from me because I don’t want anything but you.”
Changmin gave a start as arms tightened around his waist, surprising him with their sudden strength and the intensity of the heat that seemed to burn his skin with ripples of heady light every place they touched.
“Changmin-ah.” A muffled sob. “I just love you so much. And I’m so sorry.”
And he responded to that the only way he knew how, dropping his lips to press against silky black hair.
It was many minutes, melting into hours, that they stayed like that. Nothing was more important, nothing more perfect. It wasn’t until Changmin realized that Jaejoong had fallen asleep against him that he opened his eyes and lifted his head from its place where he’d been resting it against the other’s.
The room had dimmed about them considerably, announcing the oncoming darkness as the sun sank from the sky, and he shivered slightly as cool air met his heated face.
Looking around the room as he couldn’t put his finger on something that somehow felt to be missing, Changmin’s stomach suddenly seemed to drop. There should have been another person there… there should have been the familiar physical form of the man he’d loved all these years…the one who now called himself Yoochun.
Somehow he had forgotten about the other man in the midst of the turmoil within himself and in figuring out what had happened. But the room was empty save for the two of them curled on the floor.
His eyes jumped around the room again, frantically, in slight disbelief. He didn’t know what was really going on, still didn’t have an explanation as to how this whole situation had actually happened, or to who the other man was, but his blood ran cold as the possibilities of the unknown churned various ideas through his semi-panicking brain.
It wasn’t until his desperate eyes fell upon the large framed photo hanging on the wall above the piano that his search came to an end. The two smiling faces were only too clear. The photo they’d taken together on their last anniversary.
He knew with unyielding certainty that the man who he’d been with and shared that moment with was none other than Jaejoong, the man currently tucked into his arms. But then who was the man in the picture? The one with the blinding smile topped with those curving half-moon eyes. The smile he had come to love so much.
Changmin didn’t know what to do with the sudden hole in his heart that continued to tear itself larger in sharp ragged tugs the longer he sat staring at that picture.
That smiling man…Yoochun… was gone. But he shouldn’t be. Although he didn’t understand the torrent of emotion that racked his heart, he knew with full certainty that he shouldn’t be.
*****
*****
Somehow Yoochun knew everything that happened to him even as he lay trapped behind an impenetrable wall within his own mind, unable to break through it and connect back to the real world, unable to wake to consciousness. It seemed like forever since he’d been stuck in a softly floating nothingness.
At times he could hear snatches of voices. Words echoing to him like soft ripples on still water. There. Just barely there. Like the faintest touch of fingertips on his mind. But as much as he heard it, he couldn’t quite comprehend it.
But those fleeting slips of the real world into his heavy comatose brain were hardly of any importance to him. He knew there was nothing waiting for him should he open his eyes. Nothing worth living for. Which is why he just let them stay shut.
He knew he was powerless to whatever decisions may be made about his hardly functioning body, but couldn’t form consecutive strings of thoughts. Couldn’t form real ideas that were comprehensible enough to make him care about that anymore. He wasn’t even really capable of caring. Or even feeling.
He was just existing.
No. He couldn’t care less about his body or the dim hospital room it had lain in for years. That life didn’t even seem to be his anymore, his body just there while he was somewhere else entirely.
Maybe this was because his clearest moments were actually not even his.
All he knew was that for periods at a time, someone else controlled his own body. Another presence slipped into his mind, gently pushing him further into the fuzzy nothingness which wrapped him in a blanketing cocoon.
He was just barely there, seeing through his eyes which another consciousness opened, feeling his body move as another mind controlled it. He was there just watching, just feeling, as his body rose from the bed time after time, leaving the hospital behind as the man filling his mind led them out to let the sun taste pale skin, to let the wind caress grown-long hair, to let love and passion heat up his frail body and bloom within his waning soul.
It was like he was watching a very realistic movie. Able to experience and feel the whole ordeal as an aftershock, almost as one would recall a memory. Hints of colors, tastes, and emotions.
The life they lived was fulfilling and radiant. The presence, he soon came to know as Jaejoong, was bursting with life and had so much love to give. There was no end to his playful energy, his confident demeanor, and his endlessly sweet and giving nature.
It was if there wasn’t a single bad cell in his body, and he poured it out upon anything his eyes lay upon. It seemed everything was possible to him, everything was beautiful and full of goodness. Even flowers in the garden seemed to glow under his touch.
So who was Yoochun to deny this man the use of a body he didn’t even want?
He welcomed Jaejoong every time. Letting himself sink deeper and deeper into the far recesses of his own mind. Until the only thing he could really grasp and understand, the only vague reality that he knew was that soft accompanying presence.
It was only a matter of time before this became his everything. It was only as simple as breathing that he fell in love with the person who breathed new and impossible life into him.
And that was how Yoochun had finally become greedy again.
It had started as a spark. The faintest of desires. Simple yet so basically essential, that he found himself clinging to it as if it were his only life line. Which it in actuality was.
As it grew stronger, he found himself inching ever so painfully slowly forward. Pulling himself up from the pits of nowhere, up and back towards where that wall that separated him from consciousness now lay in ruins.
He wasn’t sure where it had gone, or how it was gone, but suddenly he was feeling the heaviness of laying in his own body. He was actually in his own body. He was alive, and he was slowly waking up.
And all because he had somehow regained a purpose and burning need to live. He had to. He needed to. He wanted to. Because he had fallen so desperately in love and he knew that no one else was there to save the person who was just as broken and dying as himself.
Because only he knew the truth. He knew the bursting sunshine that was Jaejoong was a white lie, that the man was actually suffering deeply, dark and half-dead. That the man was putting everything good and positive into those moments they lived as one, through him.
Only he knew that the black to Jaejoong’s white, the devil to his angel, was getting stronger with every day that passed. And because this shining angel was the way Jaejoong used to be, Yoochun had become an embodiment of a second chance for the other. Except that time was running out. Nothing could stop the blackness that crept over them in a sinister cloud.
Therefore, the desire to find the man, to heal and protect him, was so strong and almost primal, that Yoochun could hardly refuse or question it. Jaejoong had brought him back to life, and the other now needed him to do the same in return.
There was nothing that would stop him from treasuring and returning such a precious gift, because somewhere along the line he knew they had melded together. The broken shards of their souls impossibly fitting together so perfectly that it was as if they were one again. They had been one. Living together a beautiful sweet life. Through his body, with Jaejoong’s guiding consciousness.
And it had worked so well. Too well. It was why it couldn’t last. Not when what both of them really needed was to be back in their own bodies. Neither of them could continue to live through each other as much as Yoochun now wished it was possible.
The incredible link they had shared…no it couldn’t be explained, and he never wanted to try. He didn’t need to. Because he’d never again wanted to share that with anyone. He knew Jaejoong more intimately than he could ever know another human. Even more than Changmin, the man they’d both fell in love with together, both lived with and loved together, because he had felt all the strong emotions Jaejoong had for the younger as if they were his own.
So that first moment when he had finally woken up was one of the most lonely, empty moments of Yoochun’s life. He was stripped bare of everything he’d known, and felt utterly lost.
He had opened his eyes so slowly, not wanting to leave the safety of his subconscious, the place where he’d stayed to allow Jaejoong in. But it was already gone forever, that soft press of the other man in his mind. It was only him, himself. Just Yoochun. And his eyes stung.
It was like a shock of ice cold water, burning as well as instantly numbing, because that irresistible intoxicating lure of the other presence, the broken soul to his broken body, was completely gone. He felt weak and exposed without it. And again, so incredibly alone.
Jaejoong was gone, but he was awake. And it could only mean one thing. It meant he was finally, and truly, awake.
And as much as he knew he could never get back that closeness, there was a new spark of hope, a thrilling excitement as he slowly became aware of the possibilities of being conscious. Jaejoong was out there somewhere. Just waiting for him to find him. The real him. And he knew that was why he had woken up. He knew it was what he had to do.
Because he knew that Jaejoong, his Jaejoong, was barely holding on. Strung up by the thinnest gossamer thread, he was closer to letting go than anything else. And it broke his heart. He couldn’t bear the thought, and wanted to reach out and wrap his own hands around the man firmly, keeping him back, keeping him here. With him.
He knew he might actually be crazy, who wouldn’t after having been near brain dead for years on end, but he believed the other man was real, that their connection was real, and that everything had really happened.
As much as he hadn’t seen it consciously, he’d seen it with his own eyes, and trusted in it blindly. He needed to find him as quick as possible. Find him before the other gave up. But he didn’t have a single lead or the faintest idea of how he could possibly track him down. Jaejoong had always been the one to come to him.
They had never actually communicated with each other, yet just sharing the same body was enough to understand and feel each other more intimately than humanly possible. It really was an impossible situation, but Yoochun didn’t care. He would gladly go insane if it meant Jaejoong and the life they had made was real.
He left the hospital on slightly unsteady feet. Although he’d apparently been up and about at least once a day according to the records tacked up in his room, it had never been under his own power and he’d somehow lost his confidence in his own body.
Shuffling along like the recovering invalid that he was, Yoochun finally stood outside of the large building. The street was bustling and full of life around him, people passing him by without a glance, and Yoochun was struck all at once from every direction as his senses were overloaded.
It was amazing to feel so alive, and at the same time it was too overwhelming. He knew he was feeling exactly how Jaejoong must feel at times, easily understanding why the man lived so secluded and hid himself away.
Sucking in great breaths of air did well to quickly release the tight choked feeling in his chest, and he hardly waited for his heartbeat to steady again before he was moving towards the bus stop.
A few minutes later and a bus pulled up, expelling passengers as the front door opened and the elderly driver looked down at him past the steps. The welcoming smile and tilt of the snowy white hat was all Yoochun needed to see to understand that this was his bus.
He sunk into his own thoughts as the bus sped along, almost missing his stop. He wasn’t sure why but a feeling of nervous anticipation grew within him steadily as he made his way along the path towards where Changmin lived.
He tried not to get his hopes up, that it was almost certain that Jaejoong still hadn’t left his house, let alone been able to find his way here. After all how was he to know Jaejoong even remembered everything they’d been through? Yoochun was able to recall it all as warm hazy memories, general pictures and smells and sounds, as well as specific conversations or moments.
He had only assumed that the other man had been the same. His feet seemed to betray his nervous energy and he found himself tripping over them as he tried to walk faster.
Unable to push away the thoughts he didn’t want to entertain, Yoochun felt his breath grow shorter and shorter, but not on any account of his stumbling pace.
What if Jaejoong didn’t remember it at all? Or…worse. That single thought was all it took, and it bled into his mind like ink, staining everything dark and sticky and it was like sinking his hands into the blackness. He couldn’t get it off of him, it melded to him like a disease and he couldn’t breathe.
Because it was so entirely possible that Jaejoong didn’t exist at all.
He’d seen his own health reports. He’d spent five long days under strict medical monitoring that he’d filled with reading the long and sometimes detailed accounts of his various waking moments throughout the past years.
The doctor personally assigned to his case had managed to record some of their conversations on tape even, and Yoochun had felt his spine crawl with horrid bodiless fingers as Jaejoong spoke through the speakers in his own voice. It was eerie yet thrilling at the same time. Because he had thought that now that he was awake and rational, Jaejoong must be too. And he hardly dared to hope, but was unable to stop thinking that maybe the other was looking for him too.
But now. All of those optimistic ideas seemed completely foolish and just plain out irrational.
The doctors had thought he’d had a very detached split personality. One that had manifested somehow due to the high psychological stress of being comatose for such a long time. As doctors wanting to concretely explain all physical and medical phenomena down to the last detail, they had come to the conclusion that his mind had been able to split the personality even when he was technically unconscious, leaving one personality still able to consciously act. And although he was the first case of his kind in all of human history, they adamantly declared that the brain was an amazing thing, and that such things were not impossible.
But Yoochun wanted their theory to be impossible. Because deep down he knew he couldn’t fool himself. He knew that the explanation he had for himself, that of another person possessing his consciousness, was lunatic and what was actually impossible.
Yoochun blinked back the tears in his eyes and focused on the white gate before him. He had already arrived but had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t seen the world before him.
He resolutely wiped at his wet face, and made his way up the stairs. He had only gotten halfway before there was a shout and suddenly a body that was all long legs and boney arms was barreling into him, clutching him tightly against a heaving chest as Changmin cried in his ear. A jumble of words and questions pelted against him like bullets and Yoochun found himself having a hard time picking out the meaning.
Changmin was suddenly pulling back, bringing his tear streaked face into view, and Yoochun’s heart clenched at the way the younger’s mouth turned down, leaking sob after sob, as tears continued to roll down his cheeks in large glittering drops.
His hands were on the man’s face before he knew it, wiping at the tears futilely as more just replaced the ones he caught.
“Min, I’m so sorry.” He breathed as Changmin bit his bottom lip weakly in an attempt to control himself. But Yoochun just reached out for him instead, wrapping fingers around his shoulders which were so warm they almost felt hot.
He was hugging him tightly the next moment as Changmin continued to cry softly onto his shoulder, speaking between each gasp of air. “Hyung! I thought -something horrible happened. It’s been-a week and-you just disappeared. And I’ve never been-without you-before-didn’t know what-happened. ”
Yoochun let his fingers slide through the other’s hair soothingly, waiting silently for a few more minutes until Changmin had calmed down and then they were just standing there quietly holding each other in soft warmth.
His lips found the side of Changmin’s neck and he left soft butterflies there as he apologized again, knowing only too well how distraught the younger must have been after he just disappeared suddenly. He wished he could have come sooner, but at least he wasn’t too late.
And as the other turned his head he captured his lips in a kiss. The soft skin of those lips was hot and sweet like always, and Yoochun lost himself in the achingly familiar feel of the kisses. He now realized only too easily why all of Jaejoong’s feelings for Changmin had been so strong.
He was irresistible and nothing but honey on his tongue, and the long fingers that slid through his hair and across his cheek felt like the most intimate touch he’d ever felt.
He loved Changmin dearly, he knew he always had. And although he hated himself for thinking it, he almost could accept that should Jaejoong really be only a part of his own mind, it would be alright since he’d found the innocent sweetness that was Changmin.
Yet as much as he realized he was okay with that, he couldn’t help but hope that if Changmin was real like this, then so Jaejoong would be.
It was only two short days later that he was able to see firsthand that he had been right.
Although he realized the moment he laid eyes upon the gorgeous dark haired man standing beside Changmin that it was Jaejoong, he was surprised that he’d never wondered at how the other had looked.
And now that he saw him, so strikingly beautiful in an achingly sad and wistful way, he hadn’t believed it possible that he could fall any deeper in love than he already was.
But as he met those soulful eyes that day, he felt himself falling and falling fast.
He had tried his best to let Jaejoong know who he was, and what he meant to him, but the man was more fragile and broken than he’d thought he’d known, and the way he fell apart before him broke his heart so painfully that he could hardly breathe anymore when Changmin then fell to pieces in his arms.
So, like the weak useless coward that he was, he ran away.
He told himself it was because he was no longer needed. It was because Jaejoong had finally found the person he had dreamed of, the one he was looking for, and he had obviously never thought about Yoochun at all. Not the way that Yoochun had about him.
It had cut him to the core to see how Jaejoong saw him as nothing but a creation from a dream. The way Jaejoong had looked at him with such open fear and denial. The way he read those eyes that hadn’t wanted to see him, hadn’t wanted him to exist at all.
And the way that Jaejoong had looked at Changmin the way he always had, with love pouring from every fiber of his being.
And even though he loved them both, he hadn’t realized nor prepared himself for the possibility that they could reject him. It hadn’t ever crossed his mind that, to them, he might be nobody. But he couldn’t blame them. He was nothing more than a messenger, a vessel that had helped them to be together.
It was almost funny at how pathetic he was. But he couldn’t stop the tears that wet his face.
Yoochun sat stiffly in his old hospital room. He smiled wryly as he realized how incredibly more than pathetic he was being. At how ridiculous his request for admittance to the room had been. But it was the only place he felt comfortable and at home. The only place he’d known these past years aside from Changmin’s house.
He never could have predicted the way his life had spun out of control. Down a violently twisting track, each turn a whirlwind of adrenaline and heart stopping blanks. He wondered bitterly if he had made a terrible mistake, unable to stop the pain that filled his heart as his mind silently answered that yes he had.
He never should have woken up from his coma.
No. Not when waking up had caused him to lose what little he had in exchange for such a broken life. Not when it only meant he would intrude upon a beautiful love story that was no longer his.
His hands ran over the smooth fabric of the comforter. His fingers were thinner, more boney than he remembered, and he pressed the pads of them down gently. An urge to press down against ivory keys was a sharp longing that nearly knocked him breathless.
It had been too long. As much as music hadn’t been strong enough to entice him back into the world of the living, now that he was back…it was his first and only comfort. He ached to feel notes gliding along his nerves, caressing the searing ache that was his soul.
Yoochun lowered himself upon the bed until he could press his face to the cool material. No color, no smell, no feeling. The room was like a soothing balm to his tattered self.
Despite everything he knew about the situation, he felt so unwanted, so unneeded. Here was something that he had helped to make, had fallen for himself, moments shared between lovers, but in reality between which he had no part.
Between which he didn’t really exist, and for the years that he’d been together with both of them, watching over their love, acting out their love on behalf of Jaejoong, if only just providing his physical body, he knew he didn’t belong there.
Neither of them loved him, Park Yoochun, and neither of them had known he actually existed until now.
They didn’t need him and the thought terrified him so deeply he could hardly breathe. Because he needed them so badly he would rather remain comatose forever than have to continue his life without that lanky tall smart ass by his side and that bumbling sweetheart wrapped in his arms.
He loved them both so much, and knew with his mind and heart every last minute they’d shared together. He’d been with them the whole time, he’d gone through each moment together. Yet what was he to them? What could he possibly do? Where could he fit in? How could they bear to let him, a stranger, into their perfectly constructed life of love?
Yet at the same time that guilt ate him up from inside, Yoochun had a sneaking suspicion that their connection couldn’t have continued on for much longer. And the feeling only became more resolute as he remembered only too clearly the two sobbing shaking figures that had huddled on the floor before him not three hours ago.
Jaejoong needed healing, and Changmin needed loving. And who was he to give it to them when they had each other?
He hadn’t decided if he’d really given up yet or not, as he still wasn’t able to completely abandon the flicker of hope that there could be even the smallest sliver of space left within their hearts into which he could slip into.
He hoped with every last shred of his breaking heart that there would be, yet knew that today would probably become the last time that he would have ever seen them.
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