Haunting (Part 3)
Title: Haunting
Author: VampireMadonna
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: PG-13
Length: Undetermined
Summary: A tragic end leads to a new beginning...
He hadn’t felt a thing.
Or so he told himself. If he had, it was a distant memory, for which he was grateful. Who in their right mind would want to remember the moment they died? Especially if they’d died they way he had. He remembered seeing the truck, knowing that it was too late for him to jump out of the way, knowing that he was probably going to die, but he couldn’t remember the actual moment of impact.
One minute he’d been gripped in fear, the proverbial life-flashing-before-the-eyes moment, the next he’d been looking down at his bleeding, broken body. He’d felt nothing but a strange fascination as he’d watched the life drain out of him, literally. Passersby rushed over; the frantic truck driver came out, talking on the phone with the police while simultaneously proclaiming his innocence. It was all very surreal, the stuff of movies and suspense novels. It wasn’t supposed to happen in the real world. And yet…
He didn’t know how long it took before the ambulance arrived, he no longer had any sense of time, but he’d still been alive, breathing anyway, when they got there and started working on him. He’d looked around at the crowd that gathered: a collage of the strange and the familiar. He’d looked down at Lina, crying as she held onto his limp, lifeless, broken hand. He’d known that it was broken because the bone had actually punctured the flesh. She’d been the first one to reach him, screaming his name hysterically as she too was caught in this nightmare. He’d been surprised to feel guilt and regret bloom in his chest. He hated that she’d been there when it happened. Losing her best friend was bound to be hard enough to recover from but seeing it…always having that memory… He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy, least of all his soulmate.
He’d continued to watch as they prepared him for transport, gauging the reactions of the witnesses. Most were horrified, as was apparent by their facial expressions. He’d even seen a couple move away quickly as they lost a battle with their gag reflexes. However, there’d also been the usual perverts, the ones who were intrigued and fascinated by death. He could see it in their eyes. As he lay dying, their eyes shone with glee. It sickened him. He’d looked up then, over the crowd, and gasped - or whatever it was called when a ghost reacted to a surprising sight - his own eyes going round and wide.
Yunho was several feet away, concertedly keeping his distance from the crowd but clearly curious as to what had happened. From the expression on his face as he talked to Hyeri - his noona who lived on the same street - he’d been told what had happened, and to whom. He was fascinated again. Yunho went pale, his eyes wide with shock. He wondered what he was thinking, how he felt knowing that the boy he’d treated so badly was now gone from the earth. He’d never see him again, never have the opportunity to apologize.
Just then, Yunho looked up and right at him, Hyeri fading into the distance as she walked away, making him gasp yet again as their gazes locked.
Could Yunho see him? Was it possible? Obviously no one else could because he’d been standing there for at least ten minutes he guessed. Lina, his best friend, couldn’t see him but could Yunho, the boy he’d given himself to?
He’d just started to raise his hand, was just about to call out to Yunho, when he turned and began walking away. He froze for a moment, feeling like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him. Sadness and disappointment flooded him. He’d been a fool to get his hopes up, a fool to think that he wasn’t as alone as he felt.
And then came the rage.
Yunho was the reason this had happened to him. He’d crushed him, crushed, to the point where he’d forgotten to pay attention like he usually did, his body in one place and his mind another. If Yunho hadn’t been so mean, hadn’t hurt him so badly, this never would have happened.
He’d been working himself up into a fine fury when the medics started loading him onto the ambulance. As if it had never been, the anger drained out of his body. He’d cast one last look down at Lina, his heart aching at the picture she made, hugging herself as she cried and cried, her hands and clothes stained with his blood, before climbing into the ambulance. He’d watched dispassionately as they continued to work on him, knowing that it was all in vain. He was dying, almost dead, and there was no way for them to save him.
As if to validate his thoughts, his heart flat-lined and he knew that it was done. The connection, the last thread holding him to his corporeal form, was finally broken. He’d looked at himself, his once beautiful face that had filled him with so much pride now battered and torn, and felt nothing. The only thing on his mind was, “What now?”
Jaejoong stood behind his mother, one hand resting on her shoulder, the other on his sister’s, as he listened to their muted cries while he watched his funeral.
He’d remained with his body since he’d died: first at the morgue, then the funeral home. He hadn’t tried to leave it but he didn’t think he could.
It was a lovely service, bright and cheery. Exactly as he would have wanted it if he’d arranged it himself. They knew him very well.
There were a lot of people in attendance. He wasn’t sure that he knew them all but it was somewhat normal for all kinds of people to pay their respects to the dead regardless of if they’d known them personally or not. Lina was there, with her mom and siblings; his other friends from school as well. He spotted a few of his teachers, the ones he’d had a good relationship with fighting to hold back the tears in their eyes. He was touched that so many people had come out to say goodbye to him.
When the service ended, he stayed with his mother and sister, still holding onto them, offering comfort in the only way that he could. People drifted over to pay their respects on their way out and soon the crowd thinned to close friends and family. He’d just finished watching Lina hug his mother, hating the signs of grief on her face and frustrated that he couldn’t comfort her either, when he noticed that his mother was staring at something off in the distance. Curious, he followed her gaze and again found himself gasping in shock.
Yunho.
Why was he here? Why would he even come? They weren’t friends, they weren’t anything. In his own words, they were nothing to each other, he thought bitterly.
Yunho’s gaze was locked with his mother’s and he could tell by the color tinting his cheeks that he was flustered by it. Jaejoong looked at his mother’s face and knew that, despite her grief, she was working herself up to talk to the boy. Did his mother know Yunho?, he wondered. He didn’t think they’d ever met and Yunho’s parents ran in different circles than his but why else would she want to talk to him?
As if sensing his mother’s intention, Yunho turned and quickly walked away.
Something snapped inside of Jaejoong. It was one thing for Yunho to turn his back on him, to send him away, but he’d be damned if he let him do the same to his mother.
“Get back here!” he yelled. “You ass! You coward! Come back here!”
His feet started moving before he’d realized what he was doing and the next thing he knew, he was following Yunho, closing the distance between them. Yunho never stopped, never looked back, and before he could reach him, he’d climbed into his car and driven away.
The anger continued to churn inside of him, though, blazing beneath his skin, in his veins. It was a small wonder that he wasn’t puffing like a dragon, he was so pissed. And then, suddenly, he realized where he was. He was no longer with his body, no longer tied to it. Somehow, he’d been able to detach himself from it in order to pursue Yunho. What had changed?
He didn’t care the how or why, honestly. As he stared in the direction that Yunho had disappeared, a plan began to form in his mind.
He’d be paying Mr. Jung a visit very soon.
And so here he was, standing at the foot of the bed of the boy he’d been in love with for so long as he could remember, the taste of him still fresh on his tongue.
He was surprised that he could taste anything at all. Ghosts didn’t eat, did they? Then again, was he even a ghost? He wasn’t entirely sure. Yunho could see him now and as he looked down at his arm, it looked as flesh and blood as it had been when he’d been alive, not transparent like it did in the movies. What kind of supernatural manifestation was this?
“Surprised to see me?” he heard himself ask.
He didn’t sound like himself. The living him was feisty but would’ve turned to mush in front of Yunho, or at least chatter in a very cute way. Although, now that he thought about it, on the afternoon that they’d spent together he’d been able to be himself without giving into his nerves or the occasional urge to fanboy when he realized exactly who he was walking/eating/talking/singing/making love with. But that was then, wasn’t it? Before Yunho had killed him.
“Wha-what… This can’t be real.”
Yunho rubbed his eyes, convinced that he was seeing things. Jaejoong was dead. DEAD. There was no way that he was there in his bedroom, certainly no way that he’d just gotten him off. Just how tired was he to be having such a fucked up dream?
“No, it’s not a dream, Yunnie. This is very, very real.”
Yunho became impossibly pale, feeling sick to his stomach. “It… You can’t be here. You’re…”
“Dead?” Jaejoong supplied helpfully, a small smile playing around his lips. “Very much so, it seems. But you would know, wouldn’t you, seeing as you killed me and all.”
The color came rushing back to Yunho’s face. “What?”
Jaejoong nodded. “You heard me, all right.”
Yunho scrambled to rearrange his clothes. “What are you talking about? You were hit by a truck.” He paused, watching Jaejoong carefully. “Don’t you remember?”
“Certainly. Technically the truck did hit me, which lead to my death, but even so: you killed me.” Jaejoong’s eyes narrowed, voice dropping a couple of octaves, eyes freezing over. “You’re as responsible for my death as if you’d pushed me out into the road yourself.”
Yunho shook his head. “You’re…”
“Do you know what was going through my mind when I died? Who?” Jaejoong asked, his voice growing louder, icier.
Yunho shrank back further, the cold in Jaejoong’s words seeping into his blood.
“You. Everything you said. I didn’t even know where I was until it was too late. I didn’t realize how far I’d walked or even that I’d started to cross the street. I didn’t hear the horn blaring at me in warning. All I could hear was your voice in my head telling me how I was nothing to you, how what we shared meant nothing. That I was nothing.”
Yunho blanched. He’d instantly regretted those words and had unconsciously wondered, even suspected, that he might be partially responsible for what had happened to Jaejoong but to have it confirmed…
“Look,” he began. “I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings. I didn’t really mean the things I said. I was just…” He shook his head. “I’m not going to make excuses. I am sorry. But I did not kill you. You can’t put that on me.”
Jaejoong glowered. “Then who’s responsible, Yunho? Whose fault is it that my life was cut short? That I won’t get to graduate, that I won’t go to college, that I’ll never get married or have a family. That my mom and sister are probably crying themselves to sleep tonight, again. Who should I blame, Yunho? Who?!”
“No one! It was an accident. You died. You’re dead. Your life is over. Why are you still here? Why don’t you leave?” Yunho snapped.
Was he hearing him correctly?, Jaejoong thought incredulously. After what he’d done, he dared to tell him to go away?
He smiled cruelly. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? You could go on without your life and pretend that it never happened.”
Yunho sighed, weary to the bone. “What do you want from me, Jaejoong? Why are you here?”
What did he want?, he asked himself. He’d only thought as far as trying to scare Yunho and once he’d realized that Yunho could see him, feel him, he’d accomplished that. Was that the end of his revenge?
“I’m going to make you pay.”
Yunho braced himself. “How?”
How indeed…?
“I’m going to make you fall in love with me.”
“I’m going to make you fall in love with me.”
When Jaejoong had spoken those words to him three weeks ago, Yunho had thought that he was hearing things. Make him fall in love with him? He couldn’t possibly be serious. He’d wanted to laugh, to scoff at how ludicrous it sounded. Another part of him, however, a smaller part that he tried to ignore, was curious as to how Jaejoong intended to make that happen. He was already dead and hell-bent on making Yunho pay for “killing” him so how exactly did he plan to go about achieving his goal?
By the end of the first week, he was convinced that Jaejoong was insane if he thought that Yunho would ever fall for him after the torment he’d inflicted on him on a daily basis.
It had begun the very next day after he’d woken up to find Jaejoong…pleasuring him. His alarm clock was usually set for 6:30am but had gone off at 4:00am instead, jarring him out of a restless sleep barely two hours after his brain had finally shut down. He’d turned it off quickly, assuming that he’d accidentally adjusted the settings or something, but when it went off again an hour later and he woke up to find the alarm clock plugged in across the room, he knew that his stalker had begun his payback.
Jaejoong’s childish antics continued to escalate as the weeks passed.
As if the alarm clock prank wasn’t enough, he’d taken to chattering pointlessly for hours on end, preventing Yunho from studying for his quickly approaching exams, constantly disrupting his concentration as he frantically tried to complete his projects during the few moments of peace he was granted. His torment wasn’t limited to home either. Jaejoong followed him to school, talking his ear off as he sat in class, struggling to stay awake and pay attention, his body running on extreme caffeine intake and very little sleep.
By the end of the second week, he’d become convinced that Jaejoong was in fact trying to kill him and had openly said so.
“I can’t fall in love with you if you send me to an early grave, you know,” he’d remarked one night as he’d laid in bed with Jaejoong singing obnoxiously beside him, a migraine thundering behind his aching eyeballs. “How much more of this do you think my body can take? If your objective was to have me join you in the world beyond then I’d rather you just get it over with.”
Jaejoong had stopped singing and given him a long, hard, calculating look before commenting, “You do look like shit.” He’d slid off the side of the bed and stood staring down at Yunho for several tense minutes before finally saying, “Okay, I’m going to give you a break. I’m going to show you the mercy that you didn’t give to me. For this night only, I’ll leave you alone.”
After that announcement, he vanished.
Yunho had been skeptical as to whether to believe him or not. He wouldn’t be surprised if he disappeared for a couple of hours to lull him into a false sense of relief and relaxation only to reappear in the middle of the night and resume his revenge. Fortunately, he was too tired to care and drifted off into a deep sleep shortly after Jaejoong’s departure.
His reprieve lasted nine blissful hours. Jaejoong even let him wake up on his own and didn’t disturb him as he had breakfast and prepared for school. However, he was right beside him once more as he walked through the halls to his first class. He’d sighed, realizing that he’d unconsciously been hoping that Jaejoong would be gone for good, but he was grateful that Jaejoong had proven to be a man of his word.
“Thanks,” he’d muttered grudgingly.
Jaejoong had flashed him a wicked grin.
Now, four days later, he found himself cold, clammy and extremely uncomfortable from the fever burning him up inside. His words had proven truer than he’d ever hoped they would be.
His whole body ached. He’d never been sick before, not since he was a child and that was too long ago for him to remember. It was weird being in this body when it felt so strange and foreign. He couldn’t make it do anything he wanted it to. He couldn’t concentrate in class, had no appetite whatsoever - he felt nauseous in fact - and he didn’t see how he could possibly make it through the entire school day, much less the drills he had after school that day. His coach was going to kill him.
“You don’t look so good,” Himchan observed as they walked to the cafeteria at lunch time. He reached over and laid a hand on Yunho’s forehead, pulling it back sharply when he realized just how hot he was. “Dude, you’re burning up.”
“Tell me about it,” Yunho muttered through clenched teeth, biting down on the tremor that raced through his body.
“Yunho…You should get to a doctor, or at least the nurse’s office,” Himchan advised, concern lacing his soft voice.
“I’ll be fine. I’m as healthy as a horse. I never get sick. Or at least I didn’t before…” His eyes narrowed to slits as he threw an accusatory glare in Jaejoong’s direction.
Jaejoong simply smiled and continued to walk along beside him.
Himchan frowned in confusion, glancing at Yunho’s other side to see what he was looking at. “Before…?”
Yunho shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just school and everything that comes with it, that’s all. I haven’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks and I guess it’s finally catching up with me. I’m sure it’s just a twenty-four hour bug or something. I’ll be as good as new tomorrow.” He forced a smile for his friend’s sake.
By the look in his eyes, it was obvious that Himchan wasn’t buying it. “I still think that you should go to the nurse’s office…”
Yunho stopped suddenly. “I have a better idea. I’m going home.”
Himchan turned to face him. “Can you drive in this condition?”
“Well, let’s put it this way: if I die, it can’t possibly be worse than how I feel right now,” he quipped.
Jaejoong scoffed. “Like you would know.”
Yunho shot him a disgusted look before turning back to his friend.
Himchan regarded his friend closely, his worry increasing. Something was definitely up with Yunho and it wasn’t just his being sick. He’d been acting strange for weeks.
“I’ll be fine, Channie,” Yunho assured the boy. “You’re a great friend for worrying and I love you for it but don’t. I would like to ask a favor, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Can you handle Coach for me? I’d tell him myself but in my current condition…”
Himchan smiled slightly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Yunho patted his friend on the shoulder then turned and started making his way to the student parking lot.
“Are you okay to drive?” Jaejoong asked while Yunho buckled in. “I mean, ‘cause if you crash, I can’t save you, you know.”
“Then just let me die,” Yunho retorted carelessly as he drove out of the school yard. “That should make you happy.”
Jaejoong said nothing but Yunho didn’t notice.
The silence stretched as they drove to Yunho’s house. The fact that he didn’t notice how quiet Jaejoong was was a testament to just how sick he felt. When he finally made it home, safely, he used his last bit of strength to get himself to his bedroom before he flopped onto the bed and passed out.
Jaejoong looked down at Yunho, brows furrowed. He should be happy that the bastard was sick and suffering but he couldn’t find it within himself to rejoice. In fact, he was rather concerned. He’d wanted to make Yunho miserable but contrary to Yunho’s earlier words, he didn't actually want to kill him. He knew that he would have to move on eventually, to heaven, hell or wherever it was that ghosts went, and it wouldn’t brook well for him if he took a life before he did. Besides…killing people just wasn’t his thing.
Plus, he’d vowed to make Yunho fall in love with him, hadn’t he? He blushed as he thought about it. He’d been talking out of his ass when he’d said that. He hadn’t the slightest clue how to go about doing it. It had always been his belief that love couldn’t be forced. It either bloomed or it didn’t. Regardless of how he might feel about Yunho, way way beneath the hurt, pain and betrayal that he felt, he didn’t think for a moment that Yunho would ever reciprocate those feelings. His thoughts brought with them a pang of sadness and he sighed, lamenting the fact that though he was dead, he could still feel.
“Yunho?”
Jaejoong’s eyes swung to the door as it opened a fraction.
“Yunho, how come you’re home so early?” Mrs. Jung poked hear head through the opening she’d made. When her eyes fell on her unresponsive son, she threw the door open and hurried to him.
“Yunho? Yunho, what’s wrong?” She sat on the bed and felt his brow, eyes immediately filling with a worry when she felt how hot it was. “Yunho, wake up.” She shook him slightly but he didn’t react. He was out cold.
She started removing his clothes, struggling to strip him down to his underwear, all the while telling him to wake up in her soft, soothing voice. She left the room briefly, saying that she was going to get a cold cloth to cool his fever.
As soon as she was out the door, Jaejoong grabbed Yunho and flipped him flat on his back to better facilitate his mother’s ministrations.
She returned a minute later and began bathing his heated body. Jaejoong knew that Yunho would probably be mortified if he could see how he looked, having his mom taking care of him while he wore nothing but a pair of boxers, but he personally thought that it was lovely. It reminded him of his own mother. They’d been very close, mother and son and also good friends. It should have made him angry, thinking about his mother and the fact that he would never again experience her motherly brand of TLC, but surprisingly, it didn’t. He could never begrudge someone a mother’s love, not even Yunho.
Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen Yunho and his mother interact much since he’d begun haunting him yet they obviously had a good relationship and she was clearly an attentive, loving mother. It was strange… Yunho always remained in his bedroom when he was at home, which was also weird now that he thought about it, and while Jaejoong had heard his parents arguing a couple of times, he hadn’t really paid attention, having been too caught up in tormenting their son. Perhaps there were some unresolved issues…or maybe this was just the nature of their relationship. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe that all parents had an open, easy relationship with their children like his mom had had with him.
“I’m sorry for not taking better care of you, for not realizing that you weren’t okay,” Mrs. Jung said suddenly, drawing Jaejoong’s attention to her words. “I’ve always been lacking, as a wife and a mother too apparently. You’re so perfect, so independent. You make it so easy for me that sometimes I forget that you’re still my baby.”
The tears in her voice tore at Jaejoong and he resisted the urge to hug her. Not that it would matter. Yunho seemed to be the only person that he could touch.
“I love you, Yunho. My precious little boy.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks and they broke Jaejoong’s heart. She looked so lovely and dignified that he was in awe of her. His mother would have been a blotchy mess. He too for that matter.
“I love you too, Momma,” a raspy voice croaked.
Jaejoong’s gaze swung to Yunho and was surprised to see him smiling, though his eyes were still closed. He’d lifted a hand and placed it over his mother’s where hers lay on his chest, clutching the cloth as she fought for composure.
It was a beautiful moment between mother and son, a perfect picture of the love between parent and child.
He had no right being there, witnessing something so intimate.
Feeling like the intruder that he was, Jaejoong dissipated and gave the pair their privacy.
Author: VampireMadonna
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: PG-13
Length: Undetermined
Summary: A tragic end leads to a new beginning...
He hadn’t felt a thing.
Or so he told himself. If he had, it was a distant memory, for which he was grateful. Who in their right mind would want to remember the moment they died? Especially if they’d died they way he had. He remembered seeing the truck, knowing that it was too late for him to jump out of the way, knowing that he was probably going to die, but he couldn’t remember the actual moment of impact.
One minute he’d been gripped in fear, the proverbial life-flashing-before-the-eyes moment, the next he’d been looking down at his bleeding, broken body. He’d felt nothing but a strange fascination as he’d watched the life drain out of him, literally. Passersby rushed over; the frantic truck driver came out, talking on the phone with the police while simultaneously proclaiming his innocence. It was all very surreal, the stuff of movies and suspense novels. It wasn’t supposed to happen in the real world. And yet…
He didn’t know how long it took before the ambulance arrived, he no longer had any sense of time, but he’d still been alive, breathing anyway, when they got there and started working on him. He’d looked around at the crowd that gathered: a collage of the strange and the familiar. He’d looked down at Lina, crying as she held onto his limp, lifeless, broken hand. He’d known that it was broken because the bone had actually punctured the flesh. She’d been the first one to reach him, screaming his name hysterically as she too was caught in this nightmare. He’d been surprised to feel guilt and regret bloom in his chest. He hated that she’d been there when it happened. Losing her best friend was bound to be hard enough to recover from but seeing it…always having that memory… He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy, least of all his soulmate.
He’d continued to watch as they prepared him for transport, gauging the reactions of the witnesses. Most were horrified, as was apparent by their facial expressions. He’d even seen a couple move away quickly as they lost a battle with their gag reflexes. However, there’d also been the usual perverts, the ones who were intrigued and fascinated by death. He could see it in their eyes. As he lay dying, their eyes shone with glee. It sickened him. He’d looked up then, over the crowd, and gasped - or whatever it was called when a ghost reacted to a surprising sight - his own eyes going round and wide.
Yunho was several feet away, concertedly keeping his distance from the crowd but clearly curious as to what had happened. From the expression on his face as he talked to Hyeri - his noona who lived on the same street - he’d been told what had happened, and to whom. He was fascinated again. Yunho went pale, his eyes wide with shock. He wondered what he was thinking, how he felt knowing that the boy he’d treated so badly was now gone from the earth. He’d never see him again, never have the opportunity to apologize.
Just then, Yunho looked up and right at him, Hyeri fading into the distance as she walked away, making him gasp yet again as their gazes locked.
Could Yunho see him? Was it possible? Obviously no one else could because he’d been standing there for at least ten minutes he guessed. Lina, his best friend, couldn’t see him but could Yunho, the boy he’d given himself to?
He’d just started to raise his hand, was just about to call out to Yunho, when he turned and began walking away. He froze for a moment, feeling like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him. Sadness and disappointment flooded him. He’d been a fool to get his hopes up, a fool to think that he wasn’t as alone as he felt.
And then came the rage.
Yunho was the reason this had happened to him. He’d crushed him, crushed, to the point where he’d forgotten to pay attention like he usually did, his body in one place and his mind another. If Yunho hadn’t been so mean, hadn’t hurt him so badly, this never would have happened.
He’d been working himself up into a fine fury when the medics started loading him onto the ambulance. As if it had never been, the anger drained out of his body. He’d cast one last look down at Lina, his heart aching at the picture she made, hugging herself as she cried and cried, her hands and clothes stained with his blood, before climbing into the ambulance. He’d watched dispassionately as they continued to work on him, knowing that it was all in vain. He was dying, almost dead, and there was no way for them to save him.
As if to validate his thoughts, his heart flat-lined and he knew that it was done. The connection, the last thread holding him to his corporeal form, was finally broken. He’d looked at himself, his once beautiful face that had filled him with so much pride now battered and torn, and felt nothing. The only thing on his mind was, “What now?”
Jaejoong stood behind his mother, one hand resting on her shoulder, the other on his sister’s, as he listened to their muted cries while he watched his funeral.
He’d remained with his body since he’d died: first at the morgue, then the funeral home. He hadn’t tried to leave it but he didn’t think he could.
It was a lovely service, bright and cheery. Exactly as he would have wanted it if he’d arranged it himself. They knew him very well.
There were a lot of people in attendance. He wasn’t sure that he knew them all but it was somewhat normal for all kinds of people to pay their respects to the dead regardless of if they’d known them personally or not. Lina was there, with her mom and siblings; his other friends from school as well. He spotted a few of his teachers, the ones he’d had a good relationship with fighting to hold back the tears in their eyes. He was touched that so many people had come out to say goodbye to him.
When the service ended, he stayed with his mother and sister, still holding onto them, offering comfort in the only way that he could. People drifted over to pay their respects on their way out and soon the crowd thinned to close friends and family. He’d just finished watching Lina hug his mother, hating the signs of grief on her face and frustrated that he couldn’t comfort her either, when he noticed that his mother was staring at something off in the distance. Curious, he followed her gaze and again found himself gasping in shock.
Yunho.
Why was he here? Why would he even come? They weren’t friends, they weren’t anything. In his own words, they were nothing to each other, he thought bitterly.
Yunho’s gaze was locked with his mother’s and he could tell by the color tinting his cheeks that he was flustered by it. Jaejoong looked at his mother’s face and knew that, despite her grief, she was working herself up to talk to the boy. Did his mother know Yunho?, he wondered. He didn’t think they’d ever met and Yunho’s parents ran in different circles than his but why else would she want to talk to him?
As if sensing his mother’s intention, Yunho turned and quickly walked away.
Something snapped inside of Jaejoong. It was one thing for Yunho to turn his back on him, to send him away, but he’d be damned if he let him do the same to his mother.
“Get back here!” he yelled. “You ass! You coward! Come back here!”
His feet started moving before he’d realized what he was doing and the next thing he knew, he was following Yunho, closing the distance between them. Yunho never stopped, never looked back, and before he could reach him, he’d climbed into his car and driven away.
The anger continued to churn inside of him, though, blazing beneath his skin, in his veins. It was a small wonder that he wasn’t puffing like a dragon, he was so pissed. And then, suddenly, he realized where he was. He was no longer with his body, no longer tied to it. Somehow, he’d been able to detach himself from it in order to pursue Yunho. What had changed?
He didn’t care the how or why, honestly. As he stared in the direction that Yunho had disappeared, a plan began to form in his mind.
He’d be paying Mr. Jung a visit very soon.
And so here he was, standing at the foot of the bed of the boy he’d been in love with for so long as he could remember, the taste of him still fresh on his tongue.
He was surprised that he could taste anything at all. Ghosts didn’t eat, did they? Then again, was he even a ghost? He wasn’t entirely sure. Yunho could see him now and as he looked down at his arm, it looked as flesh and blood as it had been when he’d been alive, not transparent like it did in the movies. What kind of supernatural manifestation was this?
“Surprised to see me?” he heard himself ask.
He didn’t sound like himself. The living him was feisty but would’ve turned to mush in front of Yunho, or at least chatter in a very cute way. Although, now that he thought about it, on the afternoon that they’d spent together he’d been able to be himself without giving into his nerves or the occasional urge to fanboy when he realized exactly who he was walking/eating/talking/singing/making love with. But that was then, wasn’t it? Before Yunho had killed him.
“Wha-what… This can’t be real.”
Yunho rubbed his eyes, convinced that he was seeing things. Jaejoong was dead. DEAD. There was no way that he was there in his bedroom, certainly no way that he’d just gotten him off. Just how tired was he to be having such a fucked up dream?
“No, it’s not a dream, Yunnie. This is very, very real.”
Yunho became impossibly pale, feeling sick to his stomach. “It… You can’t be here. You’re…”
“Dead?” Jaejoong supplied helpfully, a small smile playing around his lips. “Very much so, it seems. But you would know, wouldn’t you, seeing as you killed me and all.”
The color came rushing back to Yunho’s face. “What?”
Jaejoong nodded. “You heard me, all right.”
Yunho scrambled to rearrange his clothes. “What are you talking about? You were hit by a truck.” He paused, watching Jaejoong carefully. “Don’t you remember?”
“Certainly. Technically the truck did hit me, which lead to my death, but even so: you killed me.” Jaejoong’s eyes narrowed, voice dropping a couple of octaves, eyes freezing over. “You’re as responsible for my death as if you’d pushed me out into the road yourself.”
Yunho shook his head. “You’re…”
“Do you know what was going through my mind when I died? Who?” Jaejoong asked, his voice growing louder, icier.
Yunho shrank back further, the cold in Jaejoong’s words seeping into his blood.
“You. Everything you said. I didn’t even know where I was until it was too late. I didn’t realize how far I’d walked or even that I’d started to cross the street. I didn’t hear the horn blaring at me in warning. All I could hear was your voice in my head telling me how I was nothing to you, how what we shared meant nothing. That I was nothing.”
Yunho blanched. He’d instantly regretted those words and had unconsciously wondered, even suspected, that he might be partially responsible for what had happened to Jaejoong but to have it confirmed…
“Look,” he began. “I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings. I didn’t really mean the things I said. I was just…” He shook his head. “I’m not going to make excuses. I am sorry. But I did not kill you. You can’t put that on me.”
Jaejoong glowered. “Then who’s responsible, Yunho? Whose fault is it that my life was cut short? That I won’t get to graduate, that I won’t go to college, that I’ll never get married or have a family. That my mom and sister are probably crying themselves to sleep tonight, again. Who should I blame, Yunho? Who?!”
“No one! It was an accident. You died. You’re dead. Your life is over. Why are you still here? Why don’t you leave?” Yunho snapped.
Was he hearing him correctly?, Jaejoong thought incredulously. After what he’d done, he dared to tell him to go away?
He smiled cruelly. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? You could go on without your life and pretend that it never happened.”
Yunho sighed, weary to the bone. “What do you want from me, Jaejoong? Why are you here?”
What did he want?, he asked himself. He’d only thought as far as trying to scare Yunho and once he’d realized that Yunho could see him, feel him, he’d accomplished that. Was that the end of his revenge?
“I’m going to make you pay.”
Yunho braced himself. “How?”
How indeed…?
“I’m going to make you fall in love with me.”
“I’m going to make you fall in love with me.”
When Jaejoong had spoken those words to him three weeks ago, Yunho had thought that he was hearing things. Make him fall in love with him? He couldn’t possibly be serious. He’d wanted to laugh, to scoff at how ludicrous it sounded. Another part of him, however, a smaller part that he tried to ignore, was curious as to how Jaejoong intended to make that happen. He was already dead and hell-bent on making Yunho pay for “killing” him so how exactly did he plan to go about achieving his goal?
By the end of the first week, he was convinced that Jaejoong was insane if he thought that Yunho would ever fall for him after the torment he’d inflicted on him on a daily basis.
It had begun the very next day after he’d woken up to find Jaejoong…pleasuring him. His alarm clock was usually set for 6:30am but had gone off at 4:00am instead, jarring him out of a restless sleep barely two hours after his brain had finally shut down. He’d turned it off quickly, assuming that he’d accidentally adjusted the settings or something, but when it went off again an hour later and he woke up to find the alarm clock plugged in across the room, he knew that his stalker had begun his payback.
Jaejoong’s childish antics continued to escalate as the weeks passed.
As if the alarm clock prank wasn’t enough, he’d taken to chattering pointlessly for hours on end, preventing Yunho from studying for his quickly approaching exams, constantly disrupting his concentration as he frantically tried to complete his projects during the few moments of peace he was granted. His torment wasn’t limited to home either. Jaejoong followed him to school, talking his ear off as he sat in class, struggling to stay awake and pay attention, his body running on extreme caffeine intake and very little sleep.
By the end of the second week, he’d become convinced that Jaejoong was in fact trying to kill him and had openly said so.
“I can’t fall in love with you if you send me to an early grave, you know,” he’d remarked one night as he’d laid in bed with Jaejoong singing obnoxiously beside him, a migraine thundering behind his aching eyeballs. “How much more of this do you think my body can take? If your objective was to have me join you in the world beyond then I’d rather you just get it over with.”
Jaejoong had stopped singing and given him a long, hard, calculating look before commenting, “You do look like shit.” He’d slid off the side of the bed and stood staring down at Yunho for several tense minutes before finally saying, “Okay, I’m going to give you a break. I’m going to show you the mercy that you didn’t give to me. For this night only, I’ll leave you alone.”
After that announcement, he vanished.
Yunho had been skeptical as to whether to believe him or not. He wouldn’t be surprised if he disappeared for a couple of hours to lull him into a false sense of relief and relaxation only to reappear in the middle of the night and resume his revenge. Fortunately, he was too tired to care and drifted off into a deep sleep shortly after Jaejoong’s departure.
His reprieve lasted nine blissful hours. Jaejoong even let him wake up on his own and didn’t disturb him as he had breakfast and prepared for school. However, he was right beside him once more as he walked through the halls to his first class. He’d sighed, realizing that he’d unconsciously been hoping that Jaejoong would be gone for good, but he was grateful that Jaejoong had proven to be a man of his word.
“Thanks,” he’d muttered grudgingly.
Jaejoong had flashed him a wicked grin.
Now, four days later, he found himself cold, clammy and extremely uncomfortable from the fever burning him up inside. His words had proven truer than he’d ever hoped they would be.
His whole body ached. He’d never been sick before, not since he was a child and that was too long ago for him to remember. It was weird being in this body when it felt so strange and foreign. He couldn’t make it do anything he wanted it to. He couldn’t concentrate in class, had no appetite whatsoever - he felt nauseous in fact - and he didn’t see how he could possibly make it through the entire school day, much less the drills he had after school that day. His coach was going to kill him.
“You don’t look so good,” Himchan observed as they walked to the cafeteria at lunch time. He reached over and laid a hand on Yunho’s forehead, pulling it back sharply when he realized just how hot he was. “Dude, you’re burning up.”
“Tell me about it,” Yunho muttered through clenched teeth, biting down on the tremor that raced through his body.
“Yunho…You should get to a doctor, or at least the nurse’s office,” Himchan advised, concern lacing his soft voice.
“I’ll be fine. I’m as healthy as a horse. I never get sick. Or at least I didn’t before…” His eyes narrowed to slits as he threw an accusatory glare in Jaejoong’s direction.
Jaejoong simply smiled and continued to walk along beside him.
Himchan frowned in confusion, glancing at Yunho’s other side to see what he was looking at. “Before…?”
Yunho shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just school and everything that comes with it, that’s all. I haven’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks and I guess it’s finally catching up with me. I’m sure it’s just a twenty-four hour bug or something. I’ll be as good as new tomorrow.” He forced a smile for his friend’s sake.
By the look in his eyes, it was obvious that Himchan wasn’t buying it. “I still think that you should go to the nurse’s office…”
Yunho stopped suddenly. “I have a better idea. I’m going home.”
Himchan turned to face him. “Can you drive in this condition?”
“Well, let’s put it this way: if I die, it can’t possibly be worse than how I feel right now,” he quipped.
Jaejoong scoffed. “Like you would know.”
Yunho shot him a disgusted look before turning back to his friend.
Himchan regarded his friend closely, his worry increasing. Something was definitely up with Yunho and it wasn’t just his being sick. He’d been acting strange for weeks.
“I’ll be fine, Channie,” Yunho assured the boy. “You’re a great friend for worrying and I love you for it but don’t. I would like to ask a favor, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Can you handle Coach for me? I’d tell him myself but in my current condition…”
Himchan smiled slightly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Yunho patted his friend on the shoulder then turned and started making his way to the student parking lot.
“Are you okay to drive?” Jaejoong asked while Yunho buckled in. “I mean, ‘cause if you crash, I can’t save you, you know.”
“Then just let me die,” Yunho retorted carelessly as he drove out of the school yard. “That should make you happy.”
Jaejoong said nothing but Yunho didn’t notice.
The silence stretched as they drove to Yunho’s house. The fact that he didn’t notice how quiet Jaejoong was was a testament to just how sick he felt. When he finally made it home, safely, he used his last bit of strength to get himself to his bedroom before he flopped onto the bed and passed out.
Jaejoong looked down at Yunho, brows furrowed. He should be happy that the bastard was sick and suffering but he couldn’t find it within himself to rejoice. In fact, he was rather concerned. He’d wanted to make Yunho miserable but contrary to Yunho’s earlier words, he didn't actually want to kill him. He knew that he would have to move on eventually, to heaven, hell or wherever it was that ghosts went, and it wouldn’t brook well for him if he took a life before he did. Besides…killing people just wasn’t his thing.
Plus, he’d vowed to make Yunho fall in love with him, hadn’t he? He blushed as he thought about it. He’d been talking out of his ass when he’d said that. He hadn’t the slightest clue how to go about doing it. It had always been his belief that love couldn’t be forced. It either bloomed or it didn’t. Regardless of how he might feel about Yunho, way way beneath the hurt, pain and betrayal that he felt, he didn’t think for a moment that Yunho would ever reciprocate those feelings. His thoughts brought with them a pang of sadness and he sighed, lamenting the fact that though he was dead, he could still feel.
“Yunho?”
Jaejoong’s eyes swung to the door as it opened a fraction.
“Yunho, how come you’re home so early?” Mrs. Jung poked hear head through the opening she’d made. When her eyes fell on her unresponsive son, she threw the door open and hurried to him.
“Yunho? Yunho, what’s wrong?” She sat on the bed and felt his brow, eyes immediately filling with a worry when she felt how hot it was. “Yunho, wake up.” She shook him slightly but he didn’t react. He was out cold.
She started removing his clothes, struggling to strip him down to his underwear, all the while telling him to wake up in her soft, soothing voice. She left the room briefly, saying that she was going to get a cold cloth to cool his fever.
As soon as she was out the door, Jaejoong grabbed Yunho and flipped him flat on his back to better facilitate his mother’s ministrations.
She returned a minute later and began bathing his heated body. Jaejoong knew that Yunho would probably be mortified if he could see how he looked, having his mom taking care of him while he wore nothing but a pair of boxers, but he personally thought that it was lovely. It reminded him of his own mother. They’d been very close, mother and son and also good friends. It should have made him angry, thinking about his mother and the fact that he would never again experience her motherly brand of TLC, but surprisingly, it didn’t. He could never begrudge someone a mother’s love, not even Yunho.
Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen Yunho and his mother interact much since he’d begun haunting him yet they obviously had a good relationship and she was clearly an attentive, loving mother. It was strange… Yunho always remained in his bedroom when he was at home, which was also weird now that he thought about it, and while Jaejoong had heard his parents arguing a couple of times, he hadn’t really paid attention, having been too caught up in tormenting their son. Perhaps there were some unresolved issues…or maybe this was just the nature of their relationship. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe that all parents had an open, easy relationship with their children like his mom had had with him.
“I’m sorry for not taking better care of you, for not realizing that you weren’t okay,” Mrs. Jung said suddenly, drawing Jaejoong’s attention to her words. “I’ve always been lacking, as a wife and a mother too apparently. You’re so perfect, so independent. You make it so easy for me that sometimes I forget that you’re still my baby.”
The tears in her voice tore at Jaejoong and he resisted the urge to hug her. Not that it would matter. Yunho seemed to be the only person that he could touch.
“I love you, Yunho. My precious little boy.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks and they broke Jaejoong’s heart. She looked so lovely and dignified that he was in awe of her. His mother would have been a blotchy mess. He too for that matter.
“I love you too, Momma,” a raspy voice croaked.
Jaejoong’s gaze swung to Yunho and was surprised to see him smiling, though his eyes were still closed. He’d lifted a hand and placed it over his mother’s where hers lay on his chest, clutching the cloth as she fought for composure.
It was a beautiful moment between mother and son, a perfect picture of the love between parent and child.
He had no right being there, witnessing something so intimate.
Feeling like the intruder that he was, Jaejoong dissipated and gave the pair their privacy.