all pretty and wasted on you
talk to me
yunho&jaejoong;
pg, romance, angst
yunho stops picking up the phone
for all the people i missed while i was away ♥
talk to me
young star you’re meant to burn out fast
rising up against the blood red sky
you’re like shooting stars falling;
keep your head down
Fear.
Resentment.
Despair. He knew these feelings well.
They paid him visits, like keeping old company. なかま (Comrades.) Never leaving.
Stuff his dreams were made of…
Were. And so he drank for his own good. Every sentence began with ‘왜?’ (Why?)
You hate but you love because your heart is empty. It reminded him that no matter how far he ran, over the mountains or across the continent by train…
There had been no going back. No compromise of sorts.
They had written their songs and he had danced to their tune.
Where would they be if not for you?
Cryptic thoughts. They robbed his desire to live.
But then he drank those away as well, six times a month if his friends even bothered to count.
After all, he was not the type to mull over his problems.
Instead, he left it to Jaejoong.
So when it began, when the situation escalated to a point of no return, Jaejoong wonders.
‘How do I contact you?’ he asks.
‘You don’t,’ Yunho says. ‘I’ll contact you.’
Jaejoong frowns. He weighs the cost of liberation, of being happy, and wasn’t it a pity how these were emotions he couldn’t just be.
A long time ago he’d assumed that the path he’d taken had been for freedom’s sake.
But how could freedom come without love?
He still can’t give himself an answer.
When Yunho finally calls, he is crying.
‘Jaejoongah,’ is his first word, and what follows after are a series of sobs. Violent and uncontained, tears for half of what he was worth.
The leader had his bad days.
This was worse.
And Jaejoong does what he is good for in situations like these. He listens.
He listens to the downpour, the falling of rain in Yunho’s heart. The phone tightens in his shaking hands. Ever tighter around his chest.
He listens, until Yunho sounds more like himself and a little less wretched.
‘What would it take for you to come back?’
Jaejoong is bitter and tired. Tired, mostly.
What he said and what he felt were like the earth and the heavens.
‘ I’m sorry- ’ he says. By then his voice has lost its edge.
( I’m sorry I can’t tell you: I love you, my dear )
He can’t kick the habit. Cigarettes, alcohol, typing hearts behind a favorite name. He’s on his back, scrolling through a long list of contacts. Eenie meenie miney mo~ he sings, smiling stupidly at the number his thumb lands on.
우리 윤호 (♥)
My Yunho (♥)
It gets out of hand from here. The lawsuit, the bashing, the need to contact Yunho when he’d specifically told him not to call.
He pushes speed-dial, hums with the music, and lets his beer do the talking.
‘Tell me you love me,’ Jaejoong demands after hearing the click that meant his call had been put through.
‘ I love you, ’ Yunho replies monotonously, not pausing to ask who it was. Jaejoong had left a dozen messages on his phone to which he’d purposefully ignored. ‘Are you happy now?’
‘You’re not saying it like you mean it.’
Yunho sighs loudly, not knowing if the steam rolling out of his mouth was from anger or purely the condensation of water.
‘Look, I’d love to talk but I’m busy,’ he says, and maybe he wanted to give Jaejoong a taste of how long he’d been left hanging.
‘But you don’t answer your calls, your messages,’ Jaejoong begins…
‘I’m the bad guy, remember?’ Yunho cries. He listens to the stretch in his voice and imagines that they are torn; that they had been since the separation and why in the world did this have to start with love and finish with so many broken hearts scattered.
‘Why can’t you see?’ Jaejoong asks desperately, as if he were throwing out the thinnest lifeline.
But it made perfect sense. They weren’t on the same page anymore-not like before, when they had read from the same script and sang from the same score. Back when Jaejoong would make music to him over the top of his keyboard.
Yunho sniffs, wiping his face of any expression.
‘People change. I’ve accepted that. So what is it you really want, Kim Jaejoong, cos in five seconds I’m going to put down if you don’t give me a good explanation.’
He could have breathed fire. The five seconds lapse into six… Yunho easily lets himself lose count. Despite the heavy breathing on the other line, it felt as if Jaejoong had vanished in the heat of the moment.
Disappointed (in himself more than anyone else) and true to his threat, he cuts the call, giving in to the anger, the pain. Just giving in… like always.
He blamed himself for everything, for how he hadn’t been watching.
The phone rings again, and although he hesitates to pick up, he does it with the sole thought of ending this once and for all.
‘What is it this time?’ Yunho heaves, short of exploding. ‘For the love of g- ”
‘I’m sorry,’ Jaejoong says, and means it. ‘Next time I’ll wait for your call.’
He disconnects abruptly, leaving Yunho’s mouth hanging.
The leader rubs his slackened jaw, examining his reflection in the tainted window.
Everything like the broken member of a broken band.
( Are you happy now… )
It had been close to a four-month wait.
Yoochun had sat him down one day at a bar wearing his poker face. ‘Hey,’ he’d mumbled reluctantly. ‘People are saying it’s time to move on.’
Jaejoong’s gaze was at once intense and prickling. ‘From?’
‘From uknow who,’ Yoochun had replied, grinning quickly. But Jaejoong was in no mood for games.
‘People can say a lot of things, but when it comes to doing, they’ll be no different,’ he had argued, and Yoochun had nodded back to show that he expected no other answer.
He wouldn’t have called Yunho if there wasn’t a reason. Not after holding out for so long.
Today just happened to be important.
They had spent the past ten years of it together, and Jaejoong had only wanted to believe that they’d spend the eleventh.
He had dreamt without realizing it; a little like falling asleep standing.
You’re beautiful but I wouldn’t know…
The train had arrived at the furthest stop, beckoning him to retrieve his phone from the bottom of his pants pocket.
Two miscalls from his manager and an email from Jaejoong.
How predictable.
‘You forgot that it’s White Day,’ came the message.
No smiley faces.
No emoticons.
Leaving no idea what point he was trying to make.
Disenchantment.
He was beginning to forget how Jaejoong’s voice sounded against his ear without sounding like emotional blackmail.
‘…how do I make it up to you?’ he types, staring uncertainly at the text before ultimately clicking send, guilt slowly creeping up on him.
He had wondered inwardly if avoiding his former band mate had been some kind of sick punishment.
But just who had he truly intended to punish?
Jaejoong… Or himself?
He leans back against the seat and shuts his eyes.
It would be a long ride back to the city.
Yunho’s mail comes in at exactly the same time Jaejoong had almost given up hope, twice.
Glancing at his phone, he breathes relief, stopping in the middle of the crowd to text a reply.
‘Call me,’ Jaejoong presses, knowing that Yunho eventually would.
After awhile, at least…
An hour, a day, another year.
It was merely a matter of perspective.
( For you, it’s separation. To me, it’s waiting. )
yunho&jaejoong;
pg, romance, angst
yunho stops picking up the phone
for all the people i missed while i was away ♥
talk to me
young star you’re meant to burn out fast
rising up against the blood red sky
you’re like shooting stars falling;
keep your head down
Fear.
Resentment.
Despair. He knew these feelings well.
They paid him visits, like keeping old company. なかま (Comrades.) Never leaving.
Stuff his dreams were made of…
Were. And so he drank for his own good. Every sentence began with ‘왜?’ (Why?)
You hate but you love because your heart is empty. It reminded him that no matter how far he ran, over the mountains or across the continent by train…
There had been no going back. No compromise of sorts.
They had written their songs and he had danced to their tune.
Where would they be if not for you?
Cryptic thoughts. They robbed his desire to live.
But then he drank those away as well, six times a month if his friends even bothered to count.
After all, he was not the type to mull over his problems.
Instead, he left it to Jaejoong.
So when it began, when the situation escalated to a point of no return, Jaejoong wonders.
‘How do I contact you?’ he asks.
‘You don’t,’ Yunho says. ‘I’ll contact you.’
Jaejoong frowns. He weighs the cost of liberation, of being happy, and wasn’t it a pity how these were emotions he couldn’t just be.
A long time ago he’d assumed that the path he’d taken had been for freedom’s sake.
But how could freedom come without love?
He still can’t give himself an answer.
When Yunho finally calls, he is crying.
‘Jaejoongah,’ is his first word, and what follows after are a series of sobs. Violent and uncontained, tears for half of what he was worth.
The leader had his bad days.
This was worse.
And Jaejoong does what he is good for in situations like these. He listens.
He listens to the downpour, the falling of rain in Yunho’s heart. The phone tightens in his shaking hands. Ever tighter around his chest.
He listens, until Yunho sounds more like himself and a little less wretched.
‘What would it take for you to come back?’
Jaejoong is bitter and tired. Tired, mostly.
What he said and what he felt were like the earth and the heavens.
‘ I’m sorry- ’ he says. By then his voice has lost its edge.
( I’m sorry I can’t tell you: I love you, my dear )
He can’t kick the habit. Cigarettes, alcohol, typing hearts behind a favorite name. He’s on his back, scrolling through a long list of contacts. Eenie meenie miney mo~ he sings, smiling stupidly at the number his thumb lands on.
우리 윤호 (♥)
My Yunho (♥)
It gets out of hand from here. The lawsuit, the bashing, the need to contact Yunho when he’d specifically told him not to call.
He pushes speed-dial, hums with the music, and lets his beer do the talking.
‘Tell me you love me,’ Jaejoong demands after hearing the click that meant his call had been put through.
‘ I love you, ’ Yunho replies monotonously, not pausing to ask who it was. Jaejoong had left a dozen messages on his phone to which he’d purposefully ignored. ‘Are you happy now?’
‘You’re not saying it like you mean it.’
Yunho sighs loudly, not knowing if the steam rolling out of his mouth was from anger or purely the condensation of water.
‘Look, I’d love to talk but I’m busy,’ he says, and maybe he wanted to give Jaejoong a taste of how long he’d been left hanging.
‘But you don’t answer your calls, your messages,’ Jaejoong begins…
‘I’m the bad guy, remember?’ Yunho cries. He listens to the stretch in his voice and imagines that they are torn; that they had been since the separation and why in the world did this have to start with love and finish with so many broken hearts scattered.
‘Why can’t you see?’ Jaejoong asks desperately, as if he were throwing out the thinnest lifeline.
But it made perfect sense. They weren’t on the same page anymore-not like before, when they had read from the same script and sang from the same score. Back when Jaejoong would make music to him over the top of his keyboard.
Yunho sniffs, wiping his face of any expression.
‘People change. I’ve accepted that. So what is it you really want, Kim Jaejoong, cos in five seconds I’m going to put down if you don’t give me a good explanation.’
He could have breathed fire. The five seconds lapse into six… Yunho easily lets himself lose count. Despite the heavy breathing on the other line, it felt as if Jaejoong had vanished in the heat of the moment.
Disappointed (in himself more than anyone else) and true to his threat, he cuts the call, giving in to the anger, the pain. Just giving in… like always.
He blamed himself for everything, for how he hadn’t been watching.
The phone rings again, and although he hesitates to pick up, he does it with the sole thought of ending this once and for all.
‘What is it this time?’ Yunho heaves, short of exploding. ‘For the love of g- ”
‘I’m sorry,’ Jaejoong says, and means it. ‘Next time I’ll wait for your call.’
He disconnects abruptly, leaving Yunho’s mouth hanging.
The leader rubs his slackened jaw, examining his reflection in the tainted window.
Everything like the broken member of a broken band.
( Are you happy now… )
It had been close to a four-month wait.
Yoochun had sat him down one day at a bar wearing his poker face. ‘Hey,’ he’d mumbled reluctantly. ‘People are saying it’s time to move on.’
Jaejoong’s gaze was at once intense and prickling. ‘From?’
‘From uknow who,’ Yoochun had replied, grinning quickly. But Jaejoong was in no mood for games.
‘People can say a lot of things, but when it comes to doing, they’ll be no different,’ he had argued, and Yoochun had nodded back to show that he expected no other answer.
He wouldn’t have called Yunho if there wasn’t a reason. Not after holding out for so long.
Today just happened to be important.
They had spent the past ten years of it together, and Jaejoong had only wanted to believe that they’d spend the eleventh.
He had dreamt without realizing it; a little like falling asleep standing.
You’re beautiful but I wouldn’t know…
The train had arrived at the furthest stop, beckoning him to retrieve his phone from the bottom of his pants pocket.
Two miscalls from his manager and an email from Jaejoong.
How predictable.
‘You forgot that it’s White Day,’ came the message.
No smiley faces.
No emoticons.
Leaving no idea what point he was trying to make.
Disenchantment.
He was beginning to forget how Jaejoong’s voice sounded against his ear without sounding like emotional blackmail.
‘…how do I make it up to you?’ he types, staring uncertainly at the text before ultimately clicking send, guilt slowly creeping up on him.
He had wondered inwardly if avoiding his former band mate had been some kind of sick punishment.
But just who had he truly intended to punish?
Jaejoong… Or himself?
He leans back against the seat and shuts his eyes.
It would be a long ride back to the city.
Yunho’s mail comes in at exactly the same time Jaejoong had almost given up hope, twice.
Glancing at his phone, he breathes relief, stopping in the middle of the crowd to text a reply.
‘Call me,’ Jaejoong presses, knowing that Yunho eventually would.
After awhile, at least…
An hour, a day, another year.
It was merely a matter of perspective.
( For you, it’s separation. To me, it’s waiting. )