tvxq: factsheet
factsheet
jaejoong/changmin. 860w.
for perla.
1) Changmin likes numbers, mathematics. The atoms in a mole, acceleration of gravity on earth, distance from the moon to the sun. There are four beats in a measure, sixty seconds between then and now, five gods rising from the east. Numbers always add up, and it's easy and concrete like the rest of the world isn't.
2) Living with four other guys is something of a disaster. There is no space, no privacy, too much noise. They're off-track and all over the place, have too many little habits, little nerves, and Jaejoong is stuck in the middle of it all with only a handful of smiles and patience spread like a shark across the ocean floor.
It's hard, but it's home. Jaejoong makes them coffee, dressed in boxers and an oversized shirt, on the mornings that Yoochun is only half-awake with head in his arms. Yunho recites their schedule over the sound of Junsu saying, "good morning," between mouthfuls of breakfast when Changmin slips into the final open chair. Jaejoong makes sure to ruffle Changmin's hair into a mess before he disappears into the bathroom, and Changmin rolls his eyes and smiles into his orange juice.
3) They're built on proximity. Changmin learns the shape of shoulders pressed against his, palms steady on his arm. Learns he really likes Yoochun's pianist hands and Yunho always smells like apples after his showers. Junsu is ticklish behind the knees (Yoochun takes advantage of this whenever he can); Jaejoong touches for no reason at all.
Reciprocation has become a habit. He thinks about psychology and chemical equations until Jaejoong fits his fingers into the spaces between his, then he forgets to think at all.
4) When Jaejoong is angry, he spends half an hour washing dishes. His frustration bleeds through the curl of his fingers, the way he shoves his hair out of his eyes and rinses the chopsticks five times. Changmin stays in the kitchen and watches him almost break two cups and snap a plastic knife. Afterwards he helps clean up and wonders if Jaejoong takes care of them because he wants to or because he feels like he has to.
5) Changmin is not a kid anymore. Which means changing, figuring things out, living and learning. Means there are no more shortcuts. The room he shares with Junsu is silent at 1 AM, streetlamps outside reflected off the walls. "I need to grow up," Changmin says to the ceiling.
Junsu shifts under his covers, says, "You need to go to sleep."
Junsu says, "You need to be yourself."
6) Yoochun says he has an English fetish. This is false, but Changmin sinks into the mattress anyway, dictionary in his arms.
"Hell of a bedtime story, Changmin," says Yoochun. He sits cross-legged against the headboard, thumbing through the thick text in his lap until he reaches a spontaneous page in the mid-Fs. Changmin wraps himself around Yoochun's pillow, braced on an elbow, and listens to the sound of Yoochun's voice, strong consonants and the way he says future like a lullaby.
After a week of adverbs and definitions, Yoochun starts to read him poetry instead, says that if he really wants something in English, he should be checking out Poe or Eliot or Whitman, not Webster. Changmin falls asleep to e.e. cummings ("you are whatever a moon has always meant," Yoochun says, stumbling) and the American curve of Yoochun's Rs.
7) Last month, Jaejoong tried to stop smoking, ended up in the dressing room biting his knuckles, and Yoochun slid a cigarette between his lips, said, "Management's going to kill you if you ruin your hands," and Jaejoong said, "They'll kill me if I ruin my voice," but he inhaled anyway.
There is still something bordering on anxiety when they perform, something like discomfort in the spaces between the stagelight and his skin. Yunho taps a fist to their shoulders before they go onstage and Junsu moves restlessly, going through the motions, mouthing the words. Changmin rocks back on his feet, breathes in, out, waits.
Thinks, in the end, they're all only human.
8) The thing about Jaejoong is--
(his voice-mouth-eyes the way he touch-laugh-lives)
(Changmin remembers: I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart)
--he is not a number.
9) Changmin isn't good at not knowing what to do. Jaejoong's palm presses his shoulder to the door (locked, he hopes wildly) and the other hand brushes knuckles across his cheek. There is a pause when Changmin can almost think, "wait"; then Jaejoong catches the side of his mouth in a kiss and Changmin's thumbs curl just inside the hem of Jaejoong's jeans, touching fingertips to his hip. Jaejoong kisses him again, harder this time, whispers something like, "relax," into his mouth and Changmin breathes in the sound like he's underwater, wonders what happened to plans and probability and the velocity of his heartbeat sticking to his throat. Wonders if it even matters. "Stop thinking," Jaejoong tells him, pushing the hair back from his face. Changmin does.
10) He guesses it's probably like this, step by step, number by number, that people fall in love.
jaejoong/changmin. 860w.
for perla.
1) Changmin likes numbers, mathematics. The atoms in a mole, acceleration of gravity on earth, distance from the moon to the sun. There are four beats in a measure, sixty seconds between then and now, five gods rising from the east. Numbers always add up, and it's easy and concrete like the rest of the world isn't.
2) Living with four other guys is something of a disaster. There is no space, no privacy, too much noise. They're off-track and all over the place, have too many little habits, little nerves, and Jaejoong is stuck in the middle of it all with only a handful of smiles and patience spread like a shark across the ocean floor.
It's hard, but it's home. Jaejoong makes them coffee, dressed in boxers and an oversized shirt, on the mornings that Yoochun is only half-awake with head in his arms. Yunho recites their schedule over the sound of Junsu saying, "good morning," between mouthfuls of breakfast when Changmin slips into the final open chair. Jaejoong makes sure to ruffle Changmin's hair into a mess before he disappears into the bathroom, and Changmin rolls his eyes and smiles into his orange juice.
3) They're built on proximity. Changmin learns the shape of shoulders pressed against his, palms steady on his arm. Learns he really likes Yoochun's pianist hands and Yunho always smells like apples after his showers. Junsu is ticklish behind the knees (Yoochun takes advantage of this whenever he can); Jaejoong touches for no reason at all.
Reciprocation has become a habit. He thinks about psychology and chemical equations until Jaejoong fits his fingers into the spaces between his, then he forgets to think at all.
4) When Jaejoong is angry, he spends half an hour washing dishes. His frustration bleeds through the curl of his fingers, the way he shoves his hair out of his eyes and rinses the chopsticks five times. Changmin stays in the kitchen and watches him almost break two cups and snap a plastic knife. Afterwards he helps clean up and wonders if Jaejoong takes care of them because he wants to or because he feels like he has to.
5) Changmin is not a kid anymore. Which means changing, figuring things out, living and learning. Means there are no more shortcuts. The room he shares with Junsu is silent at 1 AM, streetlamps outside reflected off the walls. "I need to grow up," Changmin says to the ceiling.
Junsu shifts under his covers, says, "You need to go to sleep."
Junsu says, "You need to be yourself."
6) Yoochun says he has an English fetish. This is false, but Changmin sinks into the mattress anyway, dictionary in his arms.
"Hell of a bedtime story, Changmin," says Yoochun. He sits cross-legged against the headboard, thumbing through the thick text in his lap until he reaches a spontaneous page in the mid-Fs. Changmin wraps himself around Yoochun's pillow, braced on an elbow, and listens to the sound of Yoochun's voice, strong consonants and the way he says future like a lullaby.
After a week of adverbs and definitions, Yoochun starts to read him poetry instead, says that if he really wants something in English, he should be checking out Poe or Eliot or Whitman, not Webster. Changmin falls asleep to e.e. cummings ("you are whatever a moon has always meant," Yoochun says, stumbling) and the American curve of Yoochun's Rs.
7) Last month, Jaejoong tried to stop smoking, ended up in the dressing room biting his knuckles, and Yoochun slid a cigarette between his lips, said, "Management's going to kill you if you ruin your hands," and Jaejoong said, "They'll kill me if I ruin my voice," but he inhaled anyway.
There is still something bordering on anxiety when they perform, something like discomfort in the spaces between the stagelight and his skin. Yunho taps a fist to their shoulders before they go onstage and Junsu moves restlessly, going through the motions, mouthing the words. Changmin rocks back on his feet, breathes in, out, waits.
Thinks, in the end, they're all only human.
8) The thing about Jaejoong is--
(his voice-mouth-eyes the way he touch-laugh-lives)
(Changmin remembers: I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart)
--he is not a number.
9) Changmin isn't good at not knowing what to do. Jaejoong's palm presses his shoulder to the door (locked, he hopes wildly) and the other hand brushes knuckles across his cheek. There is a pause when Changmin can almost think, "wait"; then Jaejoong catches the side of his mouth in a kiss and Changmin's thumbs curl just inside the hem of Jaejoong's jeans, touching fingertips to his hip. Jaejoong kisses him again, harder this time, whispers something like, "relax," into his mouth and Changmin breathes in the sound like he's underwater, wonders what happened to plans and probability and the velocity of his heartbeat sticking to his throat. Wonders if it even matters. "Stop thinking," Jaejoong tells him, pushing the hair back from his face. Changmin does.
10) He guesses it's probably like this, step by step, number by number, that people fall in love.