The Past, The Present - 100 SuJu Challenge
Theme #100: Regrets
Title: The Past, The Present
Pairing: (Writer's Choice) Sungmin/Jungmo (The TRAX), Sungmin/Kyuhyun
Author: thundersquall
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,101
Summary: When Sungmin’s past and present collide, he has to make a choice between what he wants, and what is right.
A/N: I maintain that Oppa Band, and more specifically Sungmin/Jungmo, is God's gift to women. I love KyuMin to no end, but seriously. Sungmin and Jungmo. The hotness, the hotness, it murders.
Written especially for the adorable todefinebeauty , who believes as firmly as I do that Sungmin and Jungmo together equals enough hotness to power the galaxy for the next couple of centuries.
Also for our favourite magnae
shiryu_yugure , who loses coherence when confronted by Sungmin/Jungmo.
A special dedication to my Fellow Sungmin Lover vintersaga as well, because I know she must love this pairing to bits!
___
When Sungmin first meets Jungmo, at a dinner the company’s organized for the trainees, it doesn’t leave as strong an impression on him as it should, considering the fact that by the end of the night Jungmo has him pinned against the wall of the club they went to after dinner and is kissing him like his life depends on it.
It begins when Sungmin, who’s never been able to hold his liquor well, finds himself at some point during the night stumbling towards Heechul, who’s playing a drinking game with Kangin and Jay Kim, all of them getting progressively louder and more boisterous with each drink.
“Hyung…” he slurs, wrapping himself like a needy snake around Heechul.
Heechul shakes him off impatiently. “Get lost, Sungmin, I need to concentrate on this.”
Sungmin giggles, pressing himself even closer against Heechul’s bony body. “Hyung… you’re moving so much… why are you moving?”
“It’s not me, idiot, you’re the one swaying like a - “
“You lose, Heechul!” Kangin crows.
“Fuck!” Heechul shouts, and he grabs Sungmin’s arms and peels them off him before standing up and throwing Kangin and Jay a dark look. “I’m not fucking losing, don’t you dare continue until I manage to get this leech off me.”
He drags Sungmin along the bar counter until he sees Jungmo standing alone at the end, sipping at a glass of whiskey and laughing at Donghae, who’s also tipsy and making a fool of himself on the dance floor. He shoves Sungmin unceremoniously towards him; Sungmin would have fallen flat on his face if Jungmo hadn’t reached out instinctively and caught him, but Sungmin only giggles and wraps his arms around Jungmo’s neck.
“Hi there, stranger,” he hiccups.
Heechul rolls his eyes. “Jungmo, this is Sungmin. I don’t think you’ve met him, but he’s in that project group with Kim Junsu and Lee Hyukjae. And also, unfortunately, he’s a friend of mine, even though I don’t much like to admit that I have such losers for friends, but now he’s drunk, and I have my hands full, so watch him.” And with that, he turns and stalks back to resume his game.
Sungmin looks up at Jungmo and smiles giddily, plucking Jungmo’s glass from the hand that isn’t holding Sungmin steady and draining it.
“Hey!” Jungmo says indignantly. “That’s mine - you - don’t you think you ought to stop drinking already?”
Sungmin presses Jungmo against the bar counter, body leaning heavily on his, face uncomfortably close. He smiles and licks his lips. “No.”
And that’s why Sungmin doesn’t remember Jungmo much, but he does remember bits and pieces. Loud pulsating music, and flashing strobe lights, and holding glass after glass unsteadily to Jungmo’s lips and watching as Jungmo downs the liquid; winding himself sinuously around Jungmo on the dance floor in a blur of sweaty, grinding bodies; both of them against a wall while Sungmin tongues the bitter aftertaste of alcohol off Jungmo’s lips.
Hyukjae pulls him away after an eternity, by which time Sungmin is floppy and boneless and Jungmo’s arms around his waist are all that’s keeping him upright. When he wakes up the next day back in his own home, with a pounding headache, still in the clothes he wore the previous night and Hyukjae snoring on the floor next to his bed, he remembers nothing at all.
“Do you know what you did with Jungmo last night?” is the first thing Hyukjae asks when Sungmin finally stumbles out to the kitchen and finds him there, eating omelettes that Sungmin’s mother cooked for breakfast.
“Who’s Jungmo?” Sungmin mumbles as he slumps into the chair next to Hyukjae and allows his poor aching head to droop on to the table.
Hyukjae stops eating and looks at his friend incredulously. “You don’t remember?”
“What are you talking about?” Sungmin snaps. He’s not in the mood for long conversations.
“Kim Jungmo, that trainee who’s supposedly a musical prodigy? He plays every musical instrument going, he’s really close to Heechul-hyung and Jay-hyung. And you had your tongue right down his throat.”
Sungmin’s head snaps up. “No way,” he gasps.
Hyukjae only nods vigorously, his face twisted into a gleeful grin. “I had to pry you off him.”
It comes back then, to Sungmin, just the bits and pieces, because he frankly doesn’t remember much still - but even though he can’t for the life of him recall Jungmo’s face, he can still remember the bit where Jungmo’s lips are rough and insistent and sticky-sweet, and he groans.
“Well, fuck,” he swears.
“You might have if I hadn’t gotten you out of there,” Hyukjae mutters darkly.
____________________________________________________________________
“Hey, Sungmin? Sungmin!”
Sungmin, dabbing at his face with a towel, turns at the voice. Dance practice always leaves him exhausted, so he simply snaps, “What?” without lifting his face from the towel.
There’s a brief silence, then the voice says hesitantly, “Uh… if you’re busy, I - I’ll talk to you another time then. Bye.”
Sungmin pulls the towel away and looks up into the face of a handsome young man, tall and long-limbed, with longish hair and sharp cheekbones. He looks vaguely familiar in the way that all trainees do even if Sungmin doesn’t know them personally, after years of brushing shoulders in the corridors of the SM building.
“No, no,” Sungmin says. “I’m sorry, I thought it was someone I knew, so I… sort of snapped. Sorry about that. But uh, you need to speak to me?”
The other man seems to tense up, just a subtle straightening in the set of his shoulders. “You thought I was someone you know?”
“Yes,” Sungmin says, confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to you before though, have I? But you’re looking for me?”
The man’s face literally crumples before Sungmin’s puzzled eyes before he mumbles, so softly that Sungmin can hardly catch it, “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Sungmin says, flustered and more than a little irritated by now.
“I’m - I’m Jungmo. We have… spoken before. Sort of.”
Sungmin clamps his eyes tightly shut and wishes the floor would swallow him up. “Fuck,” he swears, again.
___________________________________________________________________
Sungmin finds that Jungmo’s not such a bad guy, once he’s properly gotten to know him.
He knows lots of things about Jungmo by now. How Jungmo’s preparing for a summer debut as the guitarist for a rock band; how Jungmo’s able to compose songs, sing, play the guitar, piano, keyboards and drums; how everyone, including even Heechul, seems to have nothing but good things to say about him; how he seems to get more gorgeous as each day passes, his hair flowing across his shoulders; how the sight of him on his guitar is a weakness Sungmin never realized he had.
Despite all these, Sungmin doesn’t really know Jungmo. Not yet, at least, though he soon does.
The only reason why Sungmin managed to get to know Jungmo better is simply because he got tired of Jungmo bumping into him at every turn, along every corridor, and in every bathroom. And, truth be told, it’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the attention, but he does wish Jungmo would do something more concrete, so he can stop being late for piano lessons three times a week because he’s too distracted by sneakily observing Jungmo on his guitar through the tiny window of the practice room (it pisses him off that his piano practice overlaps Jungmo’s guitar practice times).
“Look,” he finally says one day after Jungmo accosts him yet again outside a studio after his vocal practice, “Why don’t you just ask me out now so we can stop pretending to be surprised each time we see each other?”
He half-expects Jungmo to blush, stutter, or run, but to his surprise, he does none of these. He simply smiles, bright as the sun, his face handsome and confident and happy, and takes Sungmin’s hand.
“Want to go for dinner after you’re done?” he asks, and Sungmin laughs and nods, intertwining his fingers tightly with Jungmo’s.
__________________________________________________________________
The night before Jungmo’s due to debut as part of The TRAX, Sungmin finds himself strongly reminded of their first kiss, which is odd because they’ve kissed, countless times over the last couple of months, and this particular reenactment isn’t so true to form. Firstly, they aren’t in a club; they’re in Jungmo’s bedroom in his dorm, the one he shares with his new soon-to-be-official bandmates. Secondly, they aren’t drunk; they’re sober as hell, enough to feel every wet glide of tongue or nip of teeth, enough to hear every soft gasp and sigh.
But Jungmo does have Sungmin pressed up against the wall again, and Sungmin is again limp and weak-kneed as Jungmo’s fingertips, callused from years of manipulating steel and nylon guitar strings, find their way under his shirt and run across his hipbone, peeking out just slightly from his low-slung jeans.
“You’re supposed to be resting, you’re debuting tomorrow,” Sungmin gasps out as Jungmo’s mouth trails over his jawline and down to his neck.
Jungmo’s only response is to do something incredible - Sungmin’s mind blanks out - with his tongue over Sungmin’s Adam’s apple, made prominent by the way Sungmin has his head thrown back and pushing painfully against the wall, and Sungmin kind of forgets how to speak after that.
_____________________________________________________________________
When Sungmin debuts as part of Super Junior almost a year and a half later, there’s no one he wishes to share his exhilaration with more than Jungmo. But Jungmo’s in Japan with his band, and has been there for the last 5 months.
Once Super Junior’s debut performance is over and they’re all celebrating riotously at the afterparty, Sungmin slips away from the crowds of well-wishers and staff and the other 11 members of his new group, wedges himself into the quietest corner of the club that he can find, and dials the number of Jungmo’s Japanese mobile.
“It’s me,” he says quickly when Jungmo picks up, his voice drowsy with sleep.
“How was it?” Jungmo asks sleepily, and Sungmin has to strain to hear him over the loud thumping music.
“It went well,” he says. “Jungmo, I wish you were here, I - “
“Me too,” Jungmo cuts in. “But Sungmin, I have to be up in a couple of hours, I only just got to bed.”
Sungmin’s heart plummets, but when he speaks, his voice is steady. “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”
“Okay. Congratulations, Sungmin. I’ll talk to you more about this tomorrow, okay?”
“All right,” Sungmin says, and hangs up without waiting for Jungmo’s reply.
He rejoins the party, but for the rest of the night, there’s a hollowness in his chest that the alcohol and the excitement of the debut and the camaraderie of his bandmates can’t fill.
____________________________________________________________________
It’s inevitable, Sungmin knows, that they should drift apart after their respective debuts. Jungmo is in Japan much of the time now, and his own Super Junior activities keep him so busy, he’s lucky if he gets three hours of sleep a night. They never get to see each other, and they hardly even talk anymore.
So it comes as no surprise when they drift apart to the extent that Jungmo tells him one day over a long-distance phone call, shakily, that he thinks there’s no point in continuing a relationship where they never interact.
“It’s not you, but neither is it me,” Jungmo says, the line crackling slightly, and Sungmin visualizes him on the other side, speaking into the phone and his voice carrying over miles and miles before it finally pours into Sungmin’s ear. “It’s our careers, and let’s face it, we don’t have the time, or the energy.”
Since it’s not a surprise to Sungmin, his voice doesn’t falter the way Jungmo’s does when he says, “I agree. I’ve been thinking the same way.”
There’s a long silence - so long that Sungmin thinks Jungmo may have hung up - but then he speaks again, voice shaking even more than before. “I still love you, Sungmin, I really do.”
“We’ll still be friends,” Sungmin says coldly, and then hangs up.
It takes another 20 minutes of him sitting blankly at his desk, mobile phone lying pathetically with the attached charm Jungmo had bought him from Japan glinting mockingly up at him, before he notices wet droplets falling from his cheeks onto the backs of his hands, clenched into tight fists on his lap, and he realizes that he’s crying.
It may not have surprised Sungmin, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
__________________________________________________________________
When Sungmin sees Kyuhyun for the first time, his breath catches in his throat. Kyuhyun is tall (like Jungmo), shaggy-haired (like Jungmo), long-limbed (like Jungmo), and very, very handsome (like Jungmo). He’s frankly apprehensive, though, when management decides to place Kyuhyun permanently in Super Junior and do away with the idea of a rotating project group. He doesn’t want or need any reminders of Jungmo in close proximity to him day in, day out.
But as time passes, he begins to see the other things that make Kyuhyun Kyuhyun. He has soulful black eyes and a voice like warm honey that sends shivers down Sungmin’s spine and a sarcastic wit that has Sungmin rolling around on the floor in stitches.
It’s obvious from the start that they have chemistry. The other boys insist on putting them together to shoot the minidrama, jokingly at first, but the results onscreen are nothing short of fantastic.
“You do know that Kyuhyunnie likes you, right?”
Ryeowook says this one day soon after they’ve moved to their new dorms, where Sungmin’s rooming with Kyuhyun because Ryeowook and Yesung insisted on rooming together and no one really wanted to share a room with Hyukjae and his feet.
Sungmin drops the armload of neatly folded laundry he’s carrying across his bedroom to Kyuhyun’s closet. “What the - don’t be silly, Ryeowook!”
Ryeowook hurries over to help Sungmin pick up the scattered articles of clothing and refold them. “It’s true. Everyone can see it, even if you don’t, hyung.”
Sungmin blinks in astonishment. “You must be imagining things.”
Ryeowook laughs. “I can’t be if he told me so himself,” he says cheekily, then pushes the pile of clothes back into Sungmin’s arms. “And judging by your own actions, you’ll probably be receptive to his advances, once he works up the courage to make any.”
Sputtering, Sungmin cries as Ryeowook makes to walk out of his bedroom: “He told you? And what - what actions?”
Ryeowook points to the clothes in Sungmin’s arms before waltzing out, a broad smile on his face. Sungmin looks down. Every last piece, carefully washed and lovingly folded, belongs to Kyuhyun.
“Oh, fuck,” he says, and then wonders despairingly why every possible new relationship he has starts with a swear word.
___________________________________________________________________
It doesn’t take quite as long for Kyuhyun to ‘make advances’ to Sungmin, like Ryeowook put it, as Sungmin expected. In fact, it only took Yesung.
After a single drinking session with Yesung, Kyuhyun stumbles into their bedroom in the middle of the night, falls flat on his face when he trips over his game controller on the floor, and when Sungmin hurries to help him up, he kisses him.
Kyuhyun tastes of alcohol and sugar, and Sungmin freezes, remembering the first time he kissed Jungmo and how Jungmo had tasted exactly like this, but Kyuhyun’s lips are soft instead of rough and his hands are smooth instead of callused, and Sungmin keeps telling himself over and over again: He’s not Jungmo, he’s Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun.
So no, Kyuhyun is not Jungmo, and never will be, but he loves Sungmin and he’s always there with and for Sungmin, and that’s enough. And even if Sungmin still finds himself thinking of Jungmo sometimes, that’s something Kyuhyun should never ever know. Sungmin loves him too much for that.
_________________________________________________________________
Oppa Band is something Sungmin both looks forward to and dreads. He knows he’s going to love it, he’s read the scripts and likes the concept, and he gets along with Kim Gura and Shin Dong Yup and the others. His guitar is his passion, and to be able to be on a show by himself, utilizing his guitar skills to the fullest, is something he’s always dreamt of doing.
He dreads it because of the addition of Jungmo, even though deep in his heart of hearts, he ‘s anticipating it as well. They’ve seen each other only a couple of times after the breakup, always in crowds or company parties which are unavoidable; they’ve exchanged a few polite words but nothing more, and yet Sungmin can never be fully rid of the little leap his heart makes into his throat each time he sees Jungmo.
The first day of filming is uncomfortable; he runs into Jungmo in one of the dressing rooms. There’s no one in it, surprisingly, the stylists all fussing over the others in another room and both Jungmo and Sungmin are already made up and dressed.
Sungmin’s about to back out of the room when Jungmo spots him in the mirror and swivels around in his chair. “Sungmin!” he says, and then he’s striding across the room, grabbing Sungmin’s hand and pulling him inside. His hand feels exactly like Sungmin remembers, hot and dry and rough, and Sungmin feels his own skin tingle.
“Hi,” he manages, trying to be calm and smiling up directly at Jungmo, but the next second he wishes he hadn’t because Jungmo has a new shorter hairstyle and eyeliner on and oh, Sungmin’s forgotten just how gorgeous he can be.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Jungmo says quietly, eyes raking over Sungmin, and Sungmin only nods. His throat seems to have closed up and he can’t speak.
“I’m glad we’re doing this show together,” Jungmo says.
Sungmin isn’t so sure if he’s glad or not, but he nods again anyway.
_____________________________________________________________________
It isn’t so bad after all, not as bad as Sungmin thinks.
It makes sense, of course. They’d gotten along well in the past, before the breakup, and after the initial awkwardness is over it’s easy for them both to rediscover the closeness they used to have. They’re even able to go out for dinners and drinks together, alone, and as they laugh and chat and Jungmo feeds bits of squid to Sungmin with his chopsticks, it’s all Sungmin can do to stop himself from thinking, it’s just like before.
He tries, too, to stop himself every time he finds his eyes lingering a little too long on Jungmo, or laughing too much with him, or leaning too close into him whenever Jungmo slings a casual arm around his shoulders. He’s not very successful, if the increased skinship and Jungmo’s own longing glances back at him are anything to go by.
Besides these, it’s not so bad, except when he goes home at night and finds Kyuhyun in his bed, waiting up for him with a sweet smile and a warm kiss. Kyuhyun knows about his past with Jungmo, and Kyuhyun never seems bothered.
“I trust you and I love you,” was all Kyuhyun said once, when Sungmin had hesitantly asked if he minded that he was spending time with Jungmo.
Those times with Kyuhyun are the worst, because he can’t stop feeling guilty.
_____________________________________________________________________
“Try it one more time.”
“I just can’t get this lick, Jungmo.”
“See the way the score runs here? Follow the beat, just strum along, you’ll get it.”
They’re in one of the practice rooms at the studio where Oppa Band is filmed, Jungmo trying to help Sungmin with a particular song he’s been having problems with. Sungmin’s disheartened, almost to the point of tears; it’s almost midnight, filming’s wrapped hours ago, and he’s hungry, but this stupid lick is defeating him.
Jungmo recognizes the signs, and sits down behind Sungmin, putting his arms around Sungmin gently and pulling him into his chest, rubbing his hands down his arms. “Let’s take a break, Sungmin.”
“No!” Sungmin yells. He’s so frustrated he can hardly feel Jungmo holding him. “No, go again, show me one more time!”
Jungmo shushes him. “Okay, okay,” he says. He reaches around Sungmin, taking his hands, arranging them on the electric guitar. Sungmin’s still holding the pick, and he tugs it out of his hand gently, before putting it between his teeth. “Try it without the pick,” he orders, his words garbled around the pick in his teeth. “Use your fingers to strum, that might help.”
Jungmo’s hot against his back as his callused hands guide Sungmin’s fingers deftly over the chords, his chin resting on Sungmin’s shoulder and digging rather uncomfortably into it. Sungmin turns his head to tell Jungmo to move it and he finds himself staring straight into Jungmo’s eyes, their faces so close that he can feel Jungmo’s breath, hot against his lips.
He jumps, startled; he hasn’t expected Jungmo to be quite this close, and makes to pull away, but Jungmo doesn’t let him.
“Jungmo?” he asks questioningly, even as he finds his eyes drawn to Jungmo’s mouth, thin lips pulled back and the guitar pick still between white teeth.
Then Jungmo’s moving closer, closer, closing those few centimeters of space between them, and once Sungmin feels his lips on his, he’s lost.
He tugs at the pick with his own teeth and pulls it out of Jungmo’s mouth before spitting it on the floor, and he lets go of the guitar he’s holding so he can bring his hands up and entangle it in Jungmo’s soft hair. The expensive guitar falls to the ground with a loud crash, but Sungmin finds that he doesn’t care.
______________________________________________________________________
In Jungmo’s familiar dorm, both of them on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, Jungmo’s kissing Sungmin again, lazily, when a buzzing sound signals that one of their phones is vibrating on the side table, and when Sungmin pulls away he sees that it’s his.
He props himself up on one elbow and reaches over Jungmo to take it, and as Jungmo pulls him back down to resume where they left off Sungmin glimpses the caller id. It says simply: Kyuhyun, flashing on and off with every vibration.
He puts it back carefully, gently, on the table.
“Is it Kyuhyun?” Jungmo asks quietly against his lips. Sungmin doesn’t reply.
Jungmo runs a hand through Sungmin’s hair, trailing his fingers down his smooth cheek tenderly, before whispering, “I’m so sorry, Sungmin.”
Sungmin shakes his head as best as he can with his lips attached to Jungmo’s. “Don’t be, I don’t regret this.”
Jungmo’s other arm, curled around his waist, holds him tighter against his body. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”
Sungmin feels the tears threatening to spill. “I love you too,” he replies, and Jungmo kisses him harder, harder, until they’re both able to ignore the insistent buzzing of the phone.
____________________________________________________________________
After the final day of filming for Oppa Band, Sungmin and Jungmo are in Jungmo’s dorm again when Jungmo says suddenly, “I’m going back to Japan next week.”
Sungmin nods. He hasn’t expected any different anyway. He’s always known this would never work out; not when Jungmo has his career in Japan to think about, and not when Sungmin has Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun who loves him and believes in him and trusts every lie that falls from Sungmin’s lips. He’s known this would end from the time it began hurting him more when he’s with Jungmo, than when he’s with Kyuhyun.
“So this is goodbye,” he says calmly.
Jungmo’s too overcome to speak, so Sungmin contents himself with looking into his soft eyes and imprinting them in his memory forever before he has to leave, this time for good.
___________________________________________________________________
On the way back to the dorm, in a cab, Sungmin pulls his phone out from his pocket and dials. It rings for a longer while than usual before it’s answered.
“Hey,” says the familiar deep voice, low and sleepy.
“Kyuhyun, I’m on my way home,” Sungmin says simply.
When Kyuhyun replies, Sungmin can almost hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll wait for you. Come back quickly, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I love you,” Kyuhyun says, and Sungmin feels himself tremble at the simple certainty in Kyuhyun’s voice.
“I love you too, Kyuhyun,” Sungmin says unsteadily. “Thank you for waiting, I love you, Kyuhyun, so much.”
Kyuhyun laughs through the phone. “Why are you being so mushy suddenly?”
“Nothing,” Sungmin says, breathing deeply. “I’m coming home now. I’m coming home to you.”
Title: The Past, The Present
Pairing: (Writer's Choice) Sungmin/Jungmo (The TRAX), Sungmin/Kyuhyun
Author: thundersquall
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,101
Summary: When Sungmin’s past and present collide, he has to make a choice between what he wants, and what is right.
A/N: I maintain that Oppa Band, and more specifically Sungmin/Jungmo, is God's gift to women. I love KyuMin to no end, but seriously. Sungmin and Jungmo. The hotness, the hotness, it murders.
Written especially for the adorable todefinebeauty , who believes as firmly as I do that Sungmin and Jungmo together equals enough hotness to power the galaxy for the next couple of centuries.
Also for our favourite magnae
shiryu_yugure , who loses coherence when confronted by Sungmin/Jungmo.
A special dedication to my Fellow Sungmin Lover vintersaga as well, because I know she must love this pairing to bits!
___
When Sungmin first meets Jungmo, at a dinner the company’s organized for the trainees, it doesn’t leave as strong an impression on him as it should, considering the fact that by the end of the night Jungmo has him pinned against the wall of the club they went to after dinner and is kissing him like his life depends on it.
It begins when Sungmin, who’s never been able to hold his liquor well, finds himself at some point during the night stumbling towards Heechul, who’s playing a drinking game with Kangin and Jay Kim, all of them getting progressively louder and more boisterous with each drink.
“Hyung…” he slurs, wrapping himself like a needy snake around Heechul.
Heechul shakes him off impatiently. “Get lost, Sungmin, I need to concentrate on this.”
Sungmin giggles, pressing himself even closer against Heechul’s bony body. “Hyung… you’re moving so much… why are you moving?”
“It’s not me, idiot, you’re the one swaying like a - “
“You lose, Heechul!” Kangin crows.
“Fuck!” Heechul shouts, and he grabs Sungmin’s arms and peels them off him before standing up and throwing Kangin and Jay a dark look. “I’m not fucking losing, don’t you dare continue until I manage to get this leech off me.”
He drags Sungmin along the bar counter until he sees Jungmo standing alone at the end, sipping at a glass of whiskey and laughing at Donghae, who’s also tipsy and making a fool of himself on the dance floor. He shoves Sungmin unceremoniously towards him; Sungmin would have fallen flat on his face if Jungmo hadn’t reached out instinctively and caught him, but Sungmin only giggles and wraps his arms around Jungmo’s neck.
“Hi there, stranger,” he hiccups.
Heechul rolls his eyes. “Jungmo, this is Sungmin. I don’t think you’ve met him, but he’s in that project group with Kim Junsu and Lee Hyukjae. And also, unfortunately, he’s a friend of mine, even though I don’t much like to admit that I have such losers for friends, but now he’s drunk, and I have my hands full, so watch him.” And with that, he turns and stalks back to resume his game.
Sungmin looks up at Jungmo and smiles giddily, plucking Jungmo’s glass from the hand that isn’t holding Sungmin steady and draining it.
“Hey!” Jungmo says indignantly. “That’s mine - you - don’t you think you ought to stop drinking already?”
Sungmin presses Jungmo against the bar counter, body leaning heavily on his, face uncomfortably close. He smiles and licks his lips. “No.”
And that’s why Sungmin doesn’t remember Jungmo much, but he does remember bits and pieces. Loud pulsating music, and flashing strobe lights, and holding glass after glass unsteadily to Jungmo’s lips and watching as Jungmo downs the liquid; winding himself sinuously around Jungmo on the dance floor in a blur of sweaty, grinding bodies; both of them against a wall while Sungmin tongues the bitter aftertaste of alcohol off Jungmo’s lips.
Hyukjae pulls him away after an eternity, by which time Sungmin is floppy and boneless and Jungmo’s arms around his waist are all that’s keeping him upright. When he wakes up the next day back in his own home, with a pounding headache, still in the clothes he wore the previous night and Hyukjae snoring on the floor next to his bed, he remembers nothing at all.
“Do you know what you did with Jungmo last night?” is the first thing Hyukjae asks when Sungmin finally stumbles out to the kitchen and finds him there, eating omelettes that Sungmin’s mother cooked for breakfast.
“Who’s Jungmo?” Sungmin mumbles as he slumps into the chair next to Hyukjae and allows his poor aching head to droop on to the table.
Hyukjae stops eating and looks at his friend incredulously. “You don’t remember?”
“What are you talking about?” Sungmin snaps. He’s not in the mood for long conversations.
“Kim Jungmo, that trainee who’s supposedly a musical prodigy? He plays every musical instrument going, he’s really close to Heechul-hyung and Jay-hyung. And you had your tongue right down his throat.”
Sungmin’s head snaps up. “No way,” he gasps.
Hyukjae only nods vigorously, his face twisted into a gleeful grin. “I had to pry you off him.”
It comes back then, to Sungmin, just the bits and pieces, because he frankly doesn’t remember much still - but even though he can’t for the life of him recall Jungmo’s face, he can still remember the bit where Jungmo’s lips are rough and insistent and sticky-sweet, and he groans.
“Well, fuck,” he swears.
“You might have if I hadn’t gotten you out of there,” Hyukjae mutters darkly.
____________________________________________________________________
“Hey, Sungmin? Sungmin!”
Sungmin, dabbing at his face with a towel, turns at the voice. Dance practice always leaves him exhausted, so he simply snaps, “What?” without lifting his face from the towel.
There’s a brief silence, then the voice says hesitantly, “Uh… if you’re busy, I - I’ll talk to you another time then. Bye.”
Sungmin pulls the towel away and looks up into the face of a handsome young man, tall and long-limbed, with longish hair and sharp cheekbones. He looks vaguely familiar in the way that all trainees do even if Sungmin doesn’t know them personally, after years of brushing shoulders in the corridors of the SM building.
“No, no,” Sungmin says. “I’m sorry, I thought it was someone I knew, so I… sort of snapped. Sorry about that. But uh, you need to speak to me?”
The other man seems to tense up, just a subtle straightening in the set of his shoulders. “You thought I was someone you know?”
“Yes,” Sungmin says, confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to you before though, have I? But you’re looking for me?”
The man’s face literally crumples before Sungmin’s puzzled eyes before he mumbles, so softly that Sungmin can hardly catch it, “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Sungmin says, flustered and more than a little irritated by now.
“I’m - I’m Jungmo. We have… spoken before. Sort of.”
Sungmin clamps his eyes tightly shut and wishes the floor would swallow him up. “Fuck,” he swears, again.
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Sungmin finds that Jungmo’s not such a bad guy, once he’s properly gotten to know him.
He knows lots of things about Jungmo by now. How Jungmo’s preparing for a summer debut as the guitarist for a rock band; how Jungmo’s able to compose songs, sing, play the guitar, piano, keyboards and drums; how everyone, including even Heechul, seems to have nothing but good things to say about him; how he seems to get more gorgeous as each day passes, his hair flowing across his shoulders; how the sight of him on his guitar is a weakness Sungmin never realized he had.
Despite all these, Sungmin doesn’t really know Jungmo. Not yet, at least, though he soon does.
The only reason why Sungmin managed to get to know Jungmo better is simply because he got tired of Jungmo bumping into him at every turn, along every corridor, and in every bathroom. And, truth be told, it’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the attention, but he does wish Jungmo would do something more concrete, so he can stop being late for piano lessons three times a week because he’s too distracted by sneakily observing Jungmo on his guitar through the tiny window of the practice room (it pisses him off that his piano practice overlaps Jungmo’s guitar practice times).
“Look,” he finally says one day after Jungmo accosts him yet again outside a studio after his vocal practice, “Why don’t you just ask me out now so we can stop pretending to be surprised each time we see each other?”
He half-expects Jungmo to blush, stutter, or run, but to his surprise, he does none of these. He simply smiles, bright as the sun, his face handsome and confident and happy, and takes Sungmin’s hand.
“Want to go for dinner after you’re done?” he asks, and Sungmin laughs and nods, intertwining his fingers tightly with Jungmo’s.
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The night before Jungmo’s due to debut as part of The TRAX, Sungmin finds himself strongly reminded of their first kiss, which is odd because they’ve kissed, countless times over the last couple of months, and this particular reenactment isn’t so true to form. Firstly, they aren’t in a club; they’re in Jungmo’s bedroom in his dorm, the one he shares with his new soon-to-be-official bandmates. Secondly, they aren’t drunk; they’re sober as hell, enough to feel every wet glide of tongue or nip of teeth, enough to hear every soft gasp and sigh.
But Jungmo does have Sungmin pressed up against the wall again, and Sungmin is again limp and weak-kneed as Jungmo’s fingertips, callused from years of manipulating steel and nylon guitar strings, find their way under his shirt and run across his hipbone, peeking out just slightly from his low-slung jeans.
“You’re supposed to be resting, you’re debuting tomorrow,” Sungmin gasps out as Jungmo’s mouth trails over his jawline and down to his neck.
Jungmo’s only response is to do something incredible - Sungmin’s mind blanks out - with his tongue over Sungmin’s Adam’s apple, made prominent by the way Sungmin has his head thrown back and pushing painfully against the wall, and Sungmin kind of forgets how to speak after that.
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When Sungmin debuts as part of Super Junior almost a year and a half later, there’s no one he wishes to share his exhilaration with more than Jungmo. But Jungmo’s in Japan with his band, and has been there for the last 5 months.
Once Super Junior’s debut performance is over and they’re all celebrating riotously at the afterparty, Sungmin slips away from the crowds of well-wishers and staff and the other 11 members of his new group, wedges himself into the quietest corner of the club that he can find, and dials the number of Jungmo’s Japanese mobile.
“It’s me,” he says quickly when Jungmo picks up, his voice drowsy with sleep.
“How was it?” Jungmo asks sleepily, and Sungmin has to strain to hear him over the loud thumping music.
“It went well,” he says. “Jungmo, I wish you were here, I - “
“Me too,” Jungmo cuts in. “But Sungmin, I have to be up in a couple of hours, I only just got to bed.”
Sungmin’s heart plummets, but when he speaks, his voice is steady. “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”
“Okay. Congratulations, Sungmin. I’ll talk to you more about this tomorrow, okay?”
“All right,” Sungmin says, and hangs up without waiting for Jungmo’s reply.
He rejoins the party, but for the rest of the night, there’s a hollowness in his chest that the alcohol and the excitement of the debut and the camaraderie of his bandmates can’t fill.
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It’s inevitable, Sungmin knows, that they should drift apart after their respective debuts. Jungmo is in Japan much of the time now, and his own Super Junior activities keep him so busy, he’s lucky if he gets three hours of sleep a night. They never get to see each other, and they hardly even talk anymore.
So it comes as no surprise when they drift apart to the extent that Jungmo tells him one day over a long-distance phone call, shakily, that he thinks there’s no point in continuing a relationship where they never interact.
“It’s not you, but neither is it me,” Jungmo says, the line crackling slightly, and Sungmin visualizes him on the other side, speaking into the phone and his voice carrying over miles and miles before it finally pours into Sungmin’s ear. “It’s our careers, and let’s face it, we don’t have the time, or the energy.”
Since it’s not a surprise to Sungmin, his voice doesn’t falter the way Jungmo’s does when he says, “I agree. I’ve been thinking the same way.”
There’s a long silence - so long that Sungmin thinks Jungmo may have hung up - but then he speaks again, voice shaking even more than before. “I still love you, Sungmin, I really do.”
“We’ll still be friends,” Sungmin says coldly, and then hangs up.
It takes another 20 minutes of him sitting blankly at his desk, mobile phone lying pathetically with the attached charm Jungmo had bought him from Japan glinting mockingly up at him, before he notices wet droplets falling from his cheeks onto the backs of his hands, clenched into tight fists on his lap, and he realizes that he’s crying.
It may not have surprised Sungmin, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
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When Sungmin sees Kyuhyun for the first time, his breath catches in his throat. Kyuhyun is tall (like Jungmo), shaggy-haired (like Jungmo), long-limbed (like Jungmo), and very, very handsome (like Jungmo). He’s frankly apprehensive, though, when management decides to place Kyuhyun permanently in Super Junior and do away with the idea of a rotating project group. He doesn’t want or need any reminders of Jungmo in close proximity to him day in, day out.
But as time passes, he begins to see the other things that make Kyuhyun Kyuhyun. He has soulful black eyes and a voice like warm honey that sends shivers down Sungmin’s spine and a sarcastic wit that has Sungmin rolling around on the floor in stitches.
It’s obvious from the start that they have chemistry. The other boys insist on putting them together to shoot the minidrama, jokingly at first, but the results onscreen are nothing short of fantastic.
“You do know that Kyuhyunnie likes you, right?”
Ryeowook says this one day soon after they’ve moved to their new dorms, where Sungmin’s rooming with Kyuhyun because Ryeowook and Yesung insisted on rooming together and no one really wanted to share a room with Hyukjae and his feet.
Sungmin drops the armload of neatly folded laundry he’s carrying across his bedroom to Kyuhyun’s closet. “What the - don’t be silly, Ryeowook!”
Ryeowook hurries over to help Sungmin pick up the scattered articles of clothing and refold them. “It’s true. Everyone can see it, even if you don’t, hyung.”
Sungmin blinks in astonishment. “You must be imagining things.”
Ryeowook laughs. “I can’t be if he told me so himself,” he says cheekily, then pushes the pile of clothes back into Sungmin’s arms. “And judging by your own actions, you’ll probably be receptive to his advances, once he works up the courage to make any.”
Sputtering, Sungmin cries as Ryeowook makes to walk out of his bedroom: “He told you? And what - what actions?”
Ryeowook points to the clothes in Sungmin’s arms before waltzing out, a broad smile on his face. Sungmin looks down. Every last piece, carefully washed and lovingly folded, belongs to Kyuhyun.
“Oh, fuck,” he says, and then wonders despairingly why every possible new relationship he has starts with a swear word.
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It doesn’t take quite as long for Kyuhyun to ‘make advances’ to Sungmin, like Ryeowook put it, as Sungmin expected. In fact, it only took Yesung.
After a single drinking session with Yesung, Kyuhyun stumbles into their bedroom in the middle of the night, falls flat on his face when he trips over his game controller on the floor, and when Sungmin hurries to help him up, he kisses him.
Kyuhyun tastes of alcohol and sugar, and Sungmin freezes, remembering the first time he kissed Jungmo and how Jungmo had tasted exactly like this, but Kyuhyun’s lips are soft instead of rough and his hands are smooth instead of callused, and Sungmin keeps telling himself over and over again: He’s not Jungmo, he’s Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun.
So no, Kyuhyun is not Jungmo, and never will be, but he loves Sungmin and he’s always there with and for Sungmin, and that’s enough. And even if Sungmin still finds himself thinking of Jungmo sometimes, that’s something Kyuhyun should never ever know. Sungmin loves him too much for that.
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Oppa Band is something Sungmin both looks forward to and dreads. He knows he’s going to love it, he’s read the scripts and likes the concept, and he gets along with Kim Gura and Shin Dong Yup and the others. His guitar is his passion, and to be able to be on a show by himself, utilizing his guitar skills to the fullest, is something he’s always dreamt of doing.
He dreads it because of the addition of Jungmo, even though deep in his heart of hearts, he ‘s anticipating it as well. They’ve seen each other only a couple of times after the breakup, always in crowds or company parties which are unavoidable; they’ve exchanged a few polite words but nothing more, and yet Sungmin can never be fully rid of the little leap his heart makes into his throat each time he sees Jungmo.
The first day of filming is uncomfortable; he runs into Jungmo in one of the dressing rooms. There’s no one in it, surprisingly, the stylists all fussing over the others in another room and both Jungmo and Sungmin are already made up and dressed.
Sungmin’s about to back out of the room when Jungmo spots him in the mirror and swivels around in his chair. “Sungmin!” he says, and then he’s striding across the room, grabbing Sungmin’s hand and pulling him inside. His hand feels exactly like Sungmin remembers, hot and dry and rough, and Sungmin feels his own skin tingle.
“Hi,” he manages, trying to be calm and smiling up directly at Jungmo, but the next second he wishes he hadn’t because Jungmo has a new shorter hairstyle and eyeliner on and oh, Sungmin’s forgotten just how gorgeous he can be.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Jungmo says quietly, eyes raking over Sungmin, and Sungmin only nods. His throat seems to have closed up and he can’t speak.
“I’m glad we’re doing this show together,” Jungmo says.
Sungmin isn’t so sure if he’s glad or not, but he nods again anyway.
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It isn’t so bad after all, not as bad as Sungmin thinks.
It makes sense, of course. They’d gotten along well in the past, before the breakup, and after the initial awkwardness is over it’s easy for them both to rediscover the closeness they used to have. They’re even able to go out for dinners and drinks together, alone, and as they laugh and chat and Jungmo feeds bits of squid to Sungmin with his chopsticks, it’s all Sungmin can do to stop himself from thinking, it’s just like before.
He tries, too, to stop himself every time he finds his eyes lingering a little too long on Jungmo, or laughing too much with him, or leaning too close into him whenever Jungmo slings a casual arm around his shoulders. He’s not very successful, if the increased skinship and Jungmo’s own longing glances back at him are anything to go by.
Besides these, it’s not so bad, except when he goes home at night and finds Kyuhyun in his bed, waiting up for him with a sweet smile and a warm kiss. Kyuhyun knows about his past with Jungmo, and Kyuhyun never seems bothered.
“I trust you and I love you,” was all Kyuhyun said once, when Sungmin had hesitantly asked if he minded that he was spending time with Jungmo.
Those times with Kyuhyun are the worst, because he can’t stop feeling guilty.
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“Try it one more time.”
“I just can’t get this lick, Jungmo.”
“See the way the score runs here? Follow the beat, just strum along, you’ll get it.”
They’re in one of the practice rooms at the studio where Oppa Band is filmed, Jungmo trying to help Sungmin with a particular song he’s been having problems with. Sungmin’s disheartened, almost to the point of tears; it’s almost midnight, filming’s wrapped hours ago, and he’s hungry, but this stupid lick is defeating him.
Jungmo recognizes the signs, and sits down behind Sungmin, putting his arms around Sungmin gently and pulling him into his chest, rubbing his hands down his arms. “Let’s take a break, Sungmin.”
“No!” Sungmin yells. He’s so frustrated he can hardly feel Jungmo holding him. “No, go again, show me one more time!”
Jungmo shushes him. “Okay, okay,” he says. He reaches around Sungmin, taking his hands, arranging them on the electric guitar. Sungmin’s still holding the pick, and he tugs it out of his hand gently, before putting it between his teeth. “Try it without the pick,” he orders, his words garbled around the pick in his teeth. “Use your fingers to strum, that might help.”
Jungmo’s hot against his back as his callused hands guide Sungmin’s fingers deftly over the chords, his chin resting on Sungmin’s shoulder and digging rather uncomfortably into it. Sungmin turns his head to tell Jungmo to move it and he finds himself staring straight into Jungmo’s eyes, their faces so close that he can feel Jungmo’s breath, hot against his lips.
He jumps, startled; he hasn’t expected Jungmo to be quite this close, and makes to pull away, but Jungmo doesn’t let him.
“Jungmo?” he asks questioningly, even as he finds his eyes drawn to Jungmo’s mouth, thin lips pulled back and the guitar pick still between white teeth.
Then Jungmo’s moving closer, closer, closing those few centimeters of space between them, and once Sungmin feels his lips on his, he’s lost.
He tugs at the pick with his own teeth and pulls it out of Jungmo’s mouth before spitting it on the floor, and he lets go of the guitar he’s holding so he can bring his hands up and entangle it in Jungmo’s soft hair. The expensive guitar falls to the ground with a loud crash, but Sungmin finds that he doesn’t care.
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In Jungmo’s familiar dorm, both of them on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, Jungmo’s kissing Sungmin again, lazily, when a buzzing sound signals that one of their phones is vibrating on the side table, and when Sungmin pulls away he sees that it’s his.
He props himself up on one elbow and reaches over Jungmo to take it, and as Jungmo pulls him back down to resume where they left off Sungmin glimpses the caller id. It says simply: Kyuhyun, flashing on and off with every vibration.
He puts it back carefully, gently, on the table.
“Is it Kyuhyun?” Jungmo asks quietly against his lips. Sungmin doesn’t reply.
Jungmo runs a hand through Sungmin’s hair, trailing his fingers down his smooth cheek tenderly, before whispering, “I’m so sorry, Sungmin.”
Sungmin shakes his head as best as he can with his lips attached to Jungmo’s. “Don’t be, I don’t regret this.”
Jungmo’s other arm, curled around his waist, holds him tighter against his body. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”
Sungmin feels the tears threatening to spill. “I love you too,” he replies, and Jungmo kisses him harder, harder, until they’re both able to ignore the insistent buzzing of the phone.
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After the final day of filming for Oppa Band, Sungmin and Jungmo are in Jungmo’s dorm again when Jungmo says suddenly, “I’m going back to Japan next week.”
Sungmin nods. He hasn’t expected any different anyway. He’s always known this would never work out; not when Jungmo has his career in Japan to think about, and not when Sungmin has Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun who loves him and believes in him and trusts every lie that falls from Sungmin’s lips. He’s known this would end from the time it began hurting him more when he’s with Jungmo, than when he’s with Kyuhyun.
“So this is goodbye,” he says calmly.
Jungmo’s too overcome to speak, so Sungmin contents himself with looking into his soft eyes and imprinting them in his memory forever before he has to leave, this time for good.
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On the way back to the dorm, in a cab, Sungmin pulls his phone out from his pocket and dials. It rings for a longer while than usual before it’s answered.
“Hey,” says the familiar deep voice, low and sleepy.
“Kyuhyun, I’m on my way home,” Sungmin says simply.
When Kyuhyun replies, Sungmin can almost hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll wait for you. Come back quickly, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I love you,” Kyuhyun says, and Sungmin feels himself tremble at the simple certainty in Kyuhyun’s voice.
“I love you too, Kyuhyun,” Sungmin says unsteadily. “Thank you for waiting, I love you, Kyuhyun, so much.”
Kyuhyun laughs through the phone. “Why are you being so mushy suddenly?”
“Nothing,” Sungmin says, breathing deeply. “I’m coming home now. I’m coming home to you.”