[fanfiction] following the trail of string
Title: following the trail of string
FANFICTION: TVfXQ
ONE SHOT
Rating: R? language and other things
Comments: Written for the 2nd round of the Yunchun Music Video Exchange over at yunchun_ywh and for sunshineyes, who wrote the captivating companion piece Smile, Little Lamb. Feel free to write your own sequel if this isn't satisfying enough =)
[ Round 1 entries] [Round 2 entries pending]
Yoochun was a damn fool.
And now Yunho was going to pay for it too.
There had been a long lull after Yoochun had left. It was so long that Yunho could have nearly forgotten all about the danger. Of course, there was always something there to remind him, like Jaejoong's increasingly annoying smirk that just had to remind him of all the impressive stocks Yoochun had left him. There was also the fact (not to be overlooked) that Yoochun was forever seared into his heart, tied to ever-lingering body heat that really wasn't there anymore.
So, since Yunho never really forgot, he was always slightly afraid, slightly paranoid. Yes, he had promised to protect Yoochun, but the real question now was, could he protect himself?
It had been exactly two years, five months, twelve days and still counting since he had acquired the stock, which he promptly passed over to Jaejoong. He didn't think too much about it, he made enough already. Yet it was those same fucking papers that leered cruelly from afar, even locked up.
Speaking of papers, he had some bills lying at his old house to pick up. He hadn't bothered with changing his address for some of the utilities there; they were auto-pay anyway. Besides, it gave him the much-needed excuse to go there every once in a while.
On the drive there, Yunho wondered why he still couldn't let go of his old house. It was full of dust and grime and useless junk that had piled up over the years. And it was full of memories. The briefest memories consisted of Yoochun, some that should have been too far back to remember the way he would tilt his head, deep in thought. The slightly longer but not more or less significant memories consisted of the people who had become closest to his heart, next to Yoochun; bantering and teasing Junsu, engaging with the youthfulness of Changmin and being hopelessly swept away by Jaejoong.
He parked his car in the driveway and sat there for a while, looking thoughtfully at the front door, remembering how he had stumbled up the steps, fumbled with his keys, all the while swearing as Yoochun hung off him, as physically close as they possibly could be in the drunken state that they were in.
Sighing, he got out, walked calmly up the steps, smoothly inserted his keys in the lock (although it seemed like it might need some oiling), and stepped inside.
Then he realized that the mail was still sitting in the mailbox. He let out another exasperated sound (but at least he still had his shoes on) before stepping back outside into the bright sunlight. It was unexpectedly clear today, although the sky had been red at dawn. The rain and the clouds would probably come all of a sudden, maybe even when he left later.
He went back inside, this time with his mail. It was bright inside, thanks to the sunlight partially streaming through the lightly coloured curtains. He shuffled through the pile, wondering if it was that time of year yet.
Twice a year, among his bills and advertisements and random useless junk, there was one letter that appeared to be just like any other advertising letter. Of course, when he first got it way back when he still lived here, that's what he thought it was, but he had opened it anyway like he did with all the others. Within the papers of garble a small card had fallen out.
One look at the writing and he had known instantly whom it had come from.
He had four of those small cards so far, which he kept in his wallet (if only he could keep Yoochun in it too). It somewhat sated his yearning, and always filled him up with emotion.
I hope you're doing well.
I wish I had the time to be a sappy bastard.
Life's being a fucking bitch right now.
I can't believe I'm still fucking alive!
So, sitting leisurely at what used to be his daily dining table (the day where Yoochun unburdened his secret was still too vivid in his mind; how haggard he had looked back then), Yunho picked up his letter opener and started reading through his mail.
He smiled as a small card fell out of one of the envelopes. He picked it up and turned it over.
Run.
Yunho found his hands trembling. Had they found Yoochun? The writing was sloppier than usual, the ink had smeared slightly and the paper was stiff, as if water had gotten to it. He didn't know, there was no way to know unless they were coming after him too and oh god, where the fuck was he supposed to run to if he didn't even really know the enemy?
Calm down, he told himself. "Calm down," he said aloud for good measure. It didn't really help much; his mind was still going haywire and this was Yoochun for goodness sake! Where was he, what the hell had he been doing and what the fuck was happening now?
It took too long for Yunho to bring himself under control but at least he could still do it. There was still a slight tremor in his fingers and anxiety lying under his skin, but he slowly stood up, only to flinch at the sound of his chair scraping the floor. He took a deep breath.
Driving back to his current residence with the fifth card in his wallet, he appeared composed enough save for the emotion in his eyes.
Jaejoong did always say that his eyes were too honest.
He was currently working on autopilot; locking the car up, pressing elevators buttons up to the fifteenth floor, unlocking the door to his place.
He found a stranger sitting on his couch when he got back, but his unfortunate brain couldn't process this information quickly enough as it was still strictly programmed to worrying about Yoochun and himself. In fact, he was routinely taking off his shoes before he even noticed the shadow in the dark.
"Yoochun?" he whispered hopefully. Oh how he wished it was, then at least he could demand some explanation before rightfully doling out 'punishment' for scaring away half of his life.
"Sorry," a voice growled in barely passable Korean. The cold eyes that met his were hardly apologetic though; the words were more habitual rather than being said with reason.
"How...?" he managed to croak out, while trying to convince himself that it was not as bad as it seemed, that he wasn't completely screwed over, that it was only Yoochun's message that made the atmosphere suddenly sinister.
Then, as his brain finally whirred into action, it hit him. After being such a stubborn ass about holding on to the stocks, Jaejoong had sold some of it in hopes of not getting caught in the recent economic bust. Shit, was there something Yoochun forgot to tell him back then? Were the stocks being traced?
The assassin stood up.
In a flurry, Yunho picked up the shoe he had taken off, a sweating hand slipped with the lock before he flew out the door. He ignored the ding of the elevator as another businessman walked out of it, nearly colliding, nearly making the end of his fate that much closer.
He was barely scrambling down the stairs when his cell phone rang. He almost tripped a step, but managed to keep his face from meeting the ground while still moving down towards escape. On top of that, he also miraculously pulled out his phone, even if it threatened to slip through his fingers. With adrenaline overpowering his common sense, he picked up the call without a second thought.
"Hello?" There was a prolonged pause.
Goddamnit, he was trying not to get killed here and whoever the fuck was on the other line better hurry and spit out some words before he hung up and-
"I can't believe you didn't fucking call me."
He nearly dropped the phone in surprise, nearly screwed up the supposed pretence even if there really was no use in pretending since he was breathing too hard from exertion, since they had already found him, but he held on to the sudden landline to life even if the person throwing it to him got him in this position in the first place. He didn't even know how Yoochun got his number but he didn't really care now that he was being targeted, all for whatever the hell he was worth.
"What the hell do you think I am, psychic?" He continued rushing down the coiling stairs, perfectly aware of the consequences of tripping but not really caring since it couldn't be any worse than getting caught. He could hear the echoing steps up above. "Of course I didn't call you if you didn't leave your number, let alone any way to contact you."
"You're such an ungrateful bastard, you know?" Yeah, of course he knew that, even as he heard the strain in the other's voice. "Can't even be appreciative that I called you after all this time. Maybe I shouldn't waste my time and just hang up, huh?"
"You go do that. I'm too fucking busy anyway."
"Che. Figures. Well, I'll be enjoying myself tonight while you work your ass off. Don't die now."
The tone sounded and Yunho shoved his phone back into his pocket. His chest heaved dangerously; fuck, he exercised regularly but even this was too much.
"Thanks a lot," he muttered in between breaths to no one in particular. He hoped he could avoid any trouble for the next little while. Hell, a day would be enough, he thought as he put on the shoe he had been carrying, thankful that the stairs weren't of the shady sort. He had Yoochun to meet up with. It was time for a nice, long, overdue conversation about all the possible dangers in life and hell that could possibly exist, and how to avoid them whenever fucking possible.
Yunho entered the crowded bar, shoving his semi-fit mass between shoulders, hips and other body parts, some that strayed where they shouldn't have, but he didn't really care about such superficial things, not with danger trailing him.
He made out Yoochun's back at the edge of the crowd and shoved some more, showing no mercy for toes and jabbing his elbows around. Just slightly pissed (yeah, right), he grabbed Yoochun's collar, hauling him off the chair.
All of Yunho's anger dissipated when he saw the stricken eyes that met his. Scowling at the fact that he really couldn't be mad, he pushed Yoochun back down before taking his own seat.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Yoochun quirked, staring at his drink, although it was just a façade. Yunho wondered how long his (acquaintance? friend? lover?) had had to become someone else. Probably too long by the looks of it, he thought as he noted how skinny Yoochun had become. It wasn't as if he was doing much better himself though.
He caught Yoochun eying his clothes, not quite tattered but giving an impression of breaking down. They were also soaked from the downpour outside. Then their eyes finally met, and a synapse seemed to snap their tension.
"Time to go."
Before Yunho could ask where, Yoochun took his hand and they left, leaving behind the noise and the people and into the rain, getting farther away from the society that they barely knew.
In the wee hours of the morning, Yunho found himself snuggled against Yoochun's body with their drying clothes strewn all over the room, a feeling he hadn't expected to experience again. He also hadn't expected to feel ribs. Poor Yoochun had become too thin.
He pressed a kiss to sleepy lips as Yoochun stirred awake, if only to blearily open his eyes. They had already talked about the intricacies of life (and how it was just a downright fucking bitch) last night; there was nothing else to say now.
They didn't hear the assassin tread on silent feet, but they heard the cocked gun.
Multiple shots rang out before giving in to silence. Then, as if on cue, the rest of civilization awoke and the first rays of morning shone through the window, illuminating the dark red liquid that slowly stained the carpet.
It was death at dawn.
FANFICTION: TVfXQ
ONE SHOT
Rating: R? language and other things
Comments: Written for the 2nd round of the Yunchun Music Video Exchange over at yunchun_ywh and for sunshineyes, who wrote the captivating companion piece Smile, Little Lamb. Feel free to write your own sequel if this isn't satisfying enough =)
[ Round 1 entries] [Round 2 entries pending]
Yoochun was a damn fool.
And now Yunho was going to pay for it too.
There had been a long lull after Yoochun had left. It was so long that Yunho could have nearly forgotten all about the danger. Of course, there was always something there to remind him, like Jaejoong's increasingly annoying smirk that just had to remind him of all the impressive stocks Yoochun had left him. There was also the fact (not to be overlooked) that Yoochun was forever seared into his heart, tied to ever-lingering body heat that really wasn't there anymore.
So, since Yunho never really forgot, he was always slightly afraid, slightly paranoid. Yes, he had promised to protect Yoochun, but the real question now was, could he protect himself?
It had been exactly two years, five months, twelve days and still counting since he had acquired the stock, which he promptly passed over to Jaejoong. He didn't think too much about it, he made enough already. Yet it was those same fucking papers that leered cruelly from afar, even locked up.
Speaking of papers, he had some bills lying at his old house to pick up. He hadn't bothered with changing his address for some of the utilities there; they were auto-pay anyway. Besides, it gave him the much-needed excuse to go there every once in a while.
On the drive there, Yunho wondered why he still couldn't let go of his old house. It was full of dust and grime and useless junk that had piled up over the years. And it was full of memories. The briefest memories consisted of Yoochun, some that should have been too far back to remember the way he would tilt his head, deep in thought. The slightly longer but not more or less significant memories consisted of the people who had become closest to his heart, next to Yoochun; bantering and teasing Junsu, engaging with the youthfulness of Changmin and being hopelessly swept away by Jaejoong.
He parked his car in the driveway and sat there for a while, looking thoughtfully at the front door, remembering how he had stumbled up the steps, fumbled with his keys, all the while swearing as Yoochun hung off him, as physically close as they possibly could be in the drunken state that they were in.
Sighing, he got out, walked calmly up the steps, smoothly inserted his keys in the lock (although it seemed like it might need some oiling), and stepped inside.
Then he realized that the mail was still sitting in the mailbox. He let out another exasperated sound (but at least he still had his shoes on) before stepping back outside into the bright sunlight. It was unexpectedly clear today, although the sky had been red at dawn. The rain and the clouds would probably come all of a sudden, maybe even when he left later.
He went back inside, this time with his mail. It was bright inside, thanks to the sunlight partially streaming through the lightly coloured curtains. He shuffled through the pile, wondering if it was that time of year yet.
Twice a year, among his bills and advertisements and random useless junk, there was one letter that appeared to be just like any other advertising letter. Of course, when he first got it way back when he still lived here, that's what he thought it was, but he had opened it anyway like he did with all the others. Within the papers of garble a small card had fallen out.
One look at the writing and he had known instantly whom it had come from.
He had four of those small cards so far, which he kept in his wallet (if only he could keep Yoochun in it too). It somewhat sated his yearning, and always filled him up with emotion.
I hope you're doing well.
I wish I had the time to be a sappy bastard.
Life's being a fucking bitch right now.
I can't believe I'm still fucking alive!
So, sitting leisurely at what used to be his daily dining table (the day where Yoochun unburdened his secret was still too vivid in his mind; how haggard he had looked back then), Yunho picked up his letter opener and started reading through his mail.
He smiled as a small card fell out of one of the envelopes. He picked it up and turned it over.
Run.
Yunho found his hands trembling. Had they found Yoochun? The writing was sloppier than usual, the ink had smeared slightly and the paper was stiff, as if water had gotten to it. He didn't know, there was no way to know unless they were coming after him too and oh god, where the fuck was he supposed to run to if he didn't even really know the enemy?
Calm down, he told himself. "Calm down," he said aloud for good measure. It didn't really help much; his mind was still going haywire and this was Yoochun for goodness sake! Where was he, what the hell had he been doing and what the fuck was happening now?
It took too long for Yunho to bring himself under control but at least he could still do it. There was still a slight tremor in his fingers and anxiety lying under his skin, but he slowly stood up, only to flinch at the sound of his chair scraping the floor. He took a deep breath.
Driving back to his current residence with the fifth card in his wallet, he appeared composed enough save for the emotion in his eyes.
Jaejoong did always say that his eyes were too honest.
He was currently working on autopilot; locking the car up, pressing elevators buttons up to the fifteenth floor, unlocking the door to his place.
He found a stranger sitting on his couch when he got back, but his unfortunate brain couldn't process this information quickly enough as it was still strictly programmed to worrying about Yoochun and himself. In fact, he was routinely taking off his shoes before he even noticed the shadow in the dark.
"Yoochun?" he whispered hopefully. Oh how he wished it was, then at least he could demand some explanation before rightfully doling out 'punishment' for scaring away half of his life.
"Sorry," a voice growled in barely passable Korean. The cold eyes that met his were hardly apologetic though; the words were more habitual rather than being said with reason.
"How...?" he managed to croak out, while trying to convince himself that it was not as bad as it seemed, that he wasn't completely screwed over, that it was only Yoochun's message that made the atmosphere suddenly sinister.
Then, as his brain finally whirred into action, it hit him. After being such a stubborn ass about holding on to the stocks, Jaejoong had sold some of it in hopes of not getting caught in the recent economic bust. Shit, was there something Yoochun forgot to tell him back then? Were the stocks being traced?
The assassin stood up.
In a flurry, Yunho picked up the shoe he had taken off, a sweating hand slipped with the lock before he flew out the door. He ignored the ding of the elevator as another businessman walked out of it, nearly colliding, nearly making the end of his fate that much closer.
He was barely scrambling down the stairs when his cell phone rang. He almost tripped a step, but managed to keep his face from meeting the ground while still moving down towards escape. On top of that, he also miraculously pulled out his phone, even if it threatened to slip through his fingers. With adrenaline overpowering his common sense, he picked up the call without a second thought.
"Hello?" There was a prolonged pause.
Goddamnit, he was trying not to get killed here and whoever the fuck was on the other line better hurry and spit out some words before he hung up and-
"I can't believe you didn't fucking call me."
He nearly dropped the phone in surprise, nearly screwed up the supposed pretence even if there really was no use in pretending since he was breathing too hard from exertion, since they had already found him, but he held on to the sudden landline to life even if the person throwing it to him got him in this position in the first place. He didn't even know how Yoochun got his number but he didn't really care now that he was being targeted, all for whatever the hell he was worth.
"What the hell do you think I am, psychic?" He continued rushing down the coiling stairs, perfectly aware of the consequences of tripping but not really caring since it couldn't be any worse than getting caught. He could hear the echoing steps up above. "Of course I didn't call you if you didn't leave your number, let alone any way to contact you."
"You're such an ungrateful bastard, you know?" Yeah, of course he knew that, even as he heard the strain in the other's voice. "Can't even be appreciative that I called you after all this time. Maybe I shouldn't waste my time and just hang up, huh?"
"You go do that. I'm too fucking busy anyway."
"Che. Figures. Well, I'll be enjoying myself tonight while you work your ass off. Don't die now."
The tone sounded and Yunho shoved his phone back into his pocket. His chest heaved dangerously; fuck, he exercised regularly but even this was too much.
"Thanks a lot," he muttered in between breaths to no one in particular. He hoped he could avoid any trouble for the next little while. Hell, a day would be enough, he thought as he put on the shoe he had been carrying, thankful that the stairs weren't of the shady sort. He had Yoochun to meet up with. It was time for a nice, long, overdue conversation about all the possible dangers in life and hell that could possibly exist, and how to avoid them whenever fucking possible.
Yunho entered the crowded bar, shoving his semi-fit mass between shoulders, hips and other body parts, some that strayed where they shouldn't have, but he didn't really care about such superficial things, not with danger trailing him.
He made out Yoochun's back at the edge of the crowd and shoved some more, showing no mercy for toes and jabbing his elbows around. Just slightly pissed (yeah, right), he grabbed Yoochun's collar, hauling him off the chair.
All of Yunho's anger dissipated when he saw the stricken eyes that met his. Scowling at the fact that he really couldn't be mad, he pushed Yoochun back down before taking his own seat.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Yoochun quirked, staring at his drink, although it was just a façade. Yunho wondered how long his (acquaintance? friend? lover?) had had to become someone else. Probably too long by the looks of it, he thought as he noted how skinny Yoochun had become. It wasn't as if he was doing much better himself though.
He caught Yoochun eying his clothes, not quite tattered but giving an impression of breaking down. They were also soaked from the downpour outside. Then their eyes finally met, and a synapse seemed to snap their tension.
"Time to go."
Before Yunho could ask where, Yoochun took his hand and they left, leaving behind the noise and the people and into the rain, getting farther away from the society that they barely knew.
In the wee hours of the morning, Yunho found himself snuggled against Yoochun's body with their drying clothes strewn all over the room, a feeling he hadn't expected to experience again. He also hadn't expected to feel ribs. Poor Yoochun had become too thin.
He pressed a kiss to sleepy lips as Yoochun stirred awake, if only to blearily open his eyes. They had already talked about the intricacies of life (and how it was just a downright fucking bitch) last night; there was nothing else to say now.
They didn't hear the assassin tread on silent feet, but they heard the cocked gun.
Multiple shots rang out before giving in to silence. Then, as if on cue, the rest of civilization awoke and the first rays of morning shone through the window, illuminating the dark red liquid that slowly stained the carpet.
It was death at dawn.