Mozart Rocks Like This [Chapter 13b]
Title: Mozart Rocks Like This
Chapter: 13b
Pairings: JaeMin, onesided!YunJae, past Changmin/OFC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: POV shiftings and time leaps.
Genre: Drama/Angst/Fluff
Summary: A rookie rocker who runs away from classics and a classical music prodigy who runs away from rock. They bump in the middle.
.
[Part a]
.
Managing to sit with shoulders slumped, Jaejoong vigorously shook his head. He had stopped listening at the point his foster father finished his story. His trail of thoughts was running in circle. No. He refused to acknowledge so much about his earlier life that should rightfully be buried along with his parents’ dead bodies.
Kim Manra was not a stranger to Kim Jaejoong but he was a stranger to Han Jaejoon. Kim Manra was part of his new life, not in this place, where he transformed back into that unsightly son of a street rocker.
“No…”
Manra had been his father for half of his life. But in Jaejoong’s head, in his deepest conscience, Han Eundae was his only father. Despite the dark time he had to suffer because he carried his blood, he always remembered his father’s melodic hum, the energetic strum of guitar against the sound of his mother cooking, the ringing laughter in four-walled space he called home. A home Kim mansion could never be to him.
---flashback---
“You know, Jaejoon-ah?” A man at his 30s entered the house which could barely be called a house, four-plastered one-room house with little to no furniture. He sat down and took the little boy onto his lap. “If you practice, you can be as good as Appa. Do you want to be as good as Appa?”
“Yes! I want to play beauuutiful melody like Appa! I will dedicate it to Umma.”
-----------------------
“No one knows the mighty Jaejoong from Kim family was actually a shabby street rocker who ate trash from place to place?” Seungri finished coldly. “It’s clever, disappearing for eight years straight, letting the Kims fill those years with empty talks about how amazing their youngest son is. You came back home acting as if you’ve been their son all your life. It works; you fit as if you belonged.”
-----------------------
Lie. Every page of his life was a lie.
“N-no.…” Wincing, he repeated the word like a mantra. Try as he might, he never truly threw away his real parents. Deep in his heart, he only acknowledged Han Eundae and Han Saeyoon, the poor street musician and his humble wife, as his parents. How could that be, the history he believed was his… all of it was a lie? The very core of what made him who he was today was a big lie?
“He knew…”
Jaejoong lifted his ashen face at his foster father-or not foster… really, he couldn’t think past the confusion clouding his mind. He gulped, scared to hear the next words.
“Han Eundae knew. Your mother told him. The robbery… they didn’t know how else to pay for necessities and debts that had accumulated over time. If only I knew this beforehand, I could have helped. But guess after my talk with Han Eundae, pride hindered them from asking for my help. I only learned about this when I met them in the prison.” Manra paused to rein in his feeling, closing his eyes in guilt.
“The debt collectors threatened to go after you, Jaejoong. The time was running out; it was the only solution he could come up with. Naturally, your mother disagreed. In the height of their argument, she told him…” Creases lined on the corners of Manra’s eyes. He looked very old, very tired. “She told him you were not his son. He needed not take such risky action for a son who wasn’t his own…”
The next silence that ensued was as good as buckets of ice-cold water pouring over Jaejoong’s heart. Water pooled in his eyes. Breathing ragged, he wanted to believe that everything was a big fat joke. But even his naïve heart couldn’t fool itself.
“So why…?” His voice was hoarse when the tentative question tumbled from his mouth. “Why did he still do it…?”
He saw the answer in Manra’s eyes even before it was uttered.
“Because to him, you are his son,” and I could never compete with the love he gave to you was left unsaid.
Love. The pure love his parents had showered him with. The love that costed them lives. Pitch black eyes widened, Jaejoong realized what he had been doing in the last eleven years. He had been pretending. By running away from rock, he had been trying to erase the past, cutting the remaining link to his real parents. He paid them back by denying the love they had given him in his early childhood.
“You thought you could get away from your past that easily, if you thought leaving rock and entering classics equal to erasing those periods in your life…” Seungri bit out. “Or has the life as a millionaire’s son made you forget?”
Seungri’s words, previously viewed as taunts, came back at him with a force that made him double over in pain. Nausea danced in his gut. Han Eundae, the shabby street musician he tried to forget, he dared not call ‘father’ anymore, had given his life for him. Him-not even his own flesh and blood, yet-
The weight of shame and guilt washed over him in waves. A sudden scream was torn from his throat. He was disgusted at himself, at the ungrateful son he had become.
“Jaejoong?” Wide-eyed, Manra took a step towards him, obviously not intending to break his son like this. Even Seungri watched in wide-eyed wonder as his brother-in-law drowned in self-inflicted mental ache, seemingly more painful than physical blows he had received.
Jaejoong couldn’t decide which fact tore him the most: his birth being a result of his mother’s infidelity, his parents sacrificing their lives for him, betrayal at his foster father who kept him in the dark for so long, or the biting realization of what monstrous son he had grown into.
Realizing how he had come to question the motive behind his parents’ crime, subconsciously blame his parents for what he had to go through after their sentencing-he should have known. There was no other reason for the crime other than his sake, for the sake of… a child who should have never been born in the first place-
“NOOO!” The pain and guilt were too much. “Seungri-hyung...” Jaejoong called out for one name he never thought he would turn to. “Please end this….”
Even his brother-in-law, who barely two hours ago was so intent on ending his life, could only watch in mute, almost sick fascination. Jaejoong was clearly not thinking straight, so caught in web of misery following the revelation of his past. Seungri gasped when Jaejoong’s trembling palm met the gun lying on the floor, knocked out of Seungri’s own hold in the rescue operation earlier.
Jaejoong held the weapon dearly, as if treasuring a welcome way out. Pent up fear, guilt, frustration over his own history exploded. Everything about him was wrong. He was an unwanted child, his parents died because of him, and he paid them back by trying to erase them from his memories, hiding behind the grandeur of Kim’s name. What kind of monster was that?
No. There was no single reason for him to continue living. The gun felt cold against his skin. He welcomed its sensation.
“What are you doing… JAEJOONG!”
But Jaejoong was beyond hearing.
.
.
.
---oOo---.
.
.
Bleary eyes opened. Blinking furiously, brown eyes tried to comprehend their surroundings. The world seemed to have tilted upside down. The dusty storeroom had been launched into tentatively calmer, though no less tense atmosphere. A faintly familiar male voice wormed through Changmin’s cloudy senses.
I… can hear?
A figure stole his attention. A man, work suit clad and highly unfitting to be involved in their situation, droned on a story. The face registered to his brain as Kim Manra, his former lover’s father.
Why is he here? What is he doing?
Brain swirling but instead of finding answer, it seemed to befuddle him further. What had happened in the minutes of his unconsciousness? The last memory he had was of Seungri slapping him hard. Recognizing the scant buzz in his ears, he suppressed a shudder.
Leaning forgotten against a secluded corner wall, he observed that Seungri’s men were no longer present. The door behind Manra was closed, leaving only the old man, an astonished Seungri, and seemingly unconscious trio, including himself. Wisely deciding not to inform them of his awakening, Changmin waited for what would become of this morning event. Through the haze draping over his hearing, he tried to focus on the words and found himself appalled by each revelation.
“… is that true? Is everything you said true?”
“Jaejoong… you’re awake?”
Changmin gasped, almost giving away his condition. Jaejoong was not supposed to hear that. He wasn’t supposed to be aware of such sacred story revealed to open air.
With each denial the older man uttered, Changmin felt a piece of his heart breaking. Jaejoong, always a mystery to him, was now bare and vulnerable in the worst way possible. How would the older man feel, when even Changmin felt unjustified just for involuntarily listening to such personal story?
“So why…?” Jaejoong’s voice was small and pathetic. “Why did he still do it…?”
There was a pause before Manra replied. “Because to him, you are his son.”
Changmin blanched. Unexpected rage and anxiety flared inside him. Wasn’t it obvious that that answer would break Jaejoong apart?
His fear proved true when an anguished scream cut the air. Eyelids tightening, as if closing his eyes would subdue the inexplicable ache his heart suddenly experienced, Changmin wanted nothing but to jump to the older man’s side and shield him from the unforgiving truth.
The sanctuary behind closed eyes didn’t last long. Supposedly small ‘click’ echoed like a bomb in his failing ears. Forcing his eyes open, Changmin felt his heart stop when he watched Jaejoong’s trembling fingers close on Seungri’s gun.
“What are you doing… JAEJOONG!”
Ignoring sharp intakes of breath drawn by unsuspecting audience, forcing all muscles in his body to move, Changmin propelled himself frontward.
For the second time that morning, loud blast echoed in a villa once holding so many sweet memories.
.
.
.
---oOo---.
.
.
4 months later; autumn.
A gust of strong wind ruffled his messy dark hair. Fixing the scarf around his neck, he sighed. Autumn was just around the corner, blowing chill to his skin. Guess outdoor activities should be limited. That included taking long walk from his mansion to a place so far away without the aid of his Audi.
A small smile graced a pair of rosy lips. If Jaejoong had remembered right-he sure had, anyway-he also preferred walking and taking public transportation to driving pricey car around the city. The habit rubbed on him too, it seemed.
Standing in front of his destination, Jaejoong paused for a while. Hesitation clogged within his heart every time he visited this place. No matter how often he graced the place with his presence, memories of what had happened never failed to follow. Of things that could have been prevented, words that should have been saved for another day, feelings that should have been expressed before circumstances force them to.
Jaejoong closed his eyes, for once enjoying the breeze. If it were his excuse for delaying the inevitable, he’d gladly avoid admitting.
“Do you plan to stand outside until tomorrow?”
Lips instantly upturning, he opened his eyes to meet those of a taller man’s. A brow was lifted, sign that the taller yet younger man was waiting for an answer. The other man was not smiling-he looked like he tried hard to suppress a wide grin, though. No need to, because the mismatched eyes already gave him away.
Falling into easy steps beside each other, both of them made their way to the subway station. Comfortable silence draped like a warm blanket upon them. But Jaejoong was here to ask a query or two, so he would not maintain the quietness for long.
“What did the doctor say?”
Changmin did not reply for a while. Jaejoong wondered if it were a bad sign. If there were a reason why he avoided accompanying Changmin to the hospital, it’d be this uneasiness spreading in his chest. He feared the news from the doctor. He feared what future had in store for the younger man.
Sensing the unease, Changmin quirked a smile at his direction. “It’s fine. It’s been four months. The phase is over. At least, it won’t get worse than its current condition.”
Jaejoong released the breath he wasn’t aware of holding. “I’m-“
“-sorry?” The younger man finished for him. “Stop it already. I hate doing this, but I’m saving you from cooking another batch of ddeokbogi tonight.”
Despite himself, a small chuckle escaped Jaejoong’s mouth. Trust Changmin to make him promise a plateful of food each time he felt like apologizing again for what had happened.
“I shall stop the medication, she said. Remind me not to take them this evening,” Changmin muttered thoughtfully.
They trudged past the usual throng of fellow passengers. Smirking at the taller male, Jaejoong mentally jotted down the note. “As you wish, snob.”
A sharp elbow to his side was foreseen. Tapping their citizen subway passes and proceeding to board the train, Jaejoong mulled over this new information. After that fateful day, they were all rushed to the hospital. The injuries were not detrimental, though Yunho had to endure a head scan, making sure the blow to his head was not brain damaging. The results turned out pleasant, much to Jaejoong’s relief.
Changmin, though, was a different story.
The younger man did not suffer from serious external injuries. Still, Jaejoong couldn’t help but fidget when an otolaryngologist checked on him.
“Permanent noise-induced hearing loss usually developed over years. Exposure to incidental loud noise is normally related to temporary disturbance,” the female doctor had explained. “Shim-sshi here, however, was exposed to extremely loud noise for almost 24 hours nonstop and a couple of gunshot sounds within close distance. That and the fact he was acquainted with rock music as of late, I’m afraid the hearing, while able to improve over time, cannot attain the same level as before.”
All five members of Super East who attended the visit had been silent at the information. They were well-informed about their bandmates’ health conditions, albeit not so much about how the injuries happened. Eunhyuk muttered “Gunshot…” while Kibum wearily asked, “Are hearing aids helpful in this case?”
The doctor looked regretful. “Shim-sshi’s problem lies at the neural cells, whilst hearing aids are helpful in problems with the eardrums or ear canals.”
“Isn’t there any way?” Junsu’s frightful voice asked.
“The hearing will improve over time. He will face no problem in daily activities,” she ensured her worried audience. “Some medication will help. But since neurons cannot regenerate themselves, what was done was done. Shim-sshi should adjust his lifestyle and that requires ceasing music activities…”
A series of gasps echoed in the white-washed room.
“But-”
“Doc-”
Jaejoong and Eunhyuk tried to speak at the same time. Immense fear gripped Jaejoong’s heart, making his own black and blue skin fade from contemplation. No. Everything but this. There’s no way he can live without music.
Sensing the group’s immediate distress, the doctor smiled empathetically. “Well, maybe not ‘ceasing’, but ‘toning down’. Rock isn’t a wise choice… maybe you can try classics? Ah.” The female doctor laughed somewhat embarrassedly. “I’m sorry that I don’t understand music much. Being involved in one genre of music doesn’t mean liking all kinds of music, does it?”
Jaejoong’s eyes flicked to glance at Changmin’s impassive face. So far the youngest member hadn’t said anything about his own condition. Even the careless suggestion did not trigger a reaction from him.
Only when all pairs of eyes rested upon him did Changmin finally open his mouth. “I understand,” he had said, somehow too calmly to Jaejoong’s liking. “Please prescribe the medication and I’ll make sure to heed all your advices.”
Probably expecting a more defiant response, if his bandmates’ reactions were anything to go by, the doctor had been surprised at the easy compliance. “Very well,” she had said. “You have to come for control next week, and then every two weeks for the next three months.”
Jerking back to now and here as the train halted at one station, Jaejoong dared a glance at his companion. Beside him, Changmin didn’t even seem to notice the train movement. Hunching with left elbow on one knee and his chin resting on left hand, the younger man’s side profile almost resembled The Thinker statue. This random thought brought a smile to Jaejoong’s lips. Taking advantage of the younger man’s obliviousness, his gaze roved from the solemn doe eyes and straight nose to the slightly parted lips and sharp jaw.
Wondering what in the world Changmin was thinking, Jaejoong too launched into another bout of memory, this time darker than the last.
.
.
.
---oOo---.
.
.
A body collided with his convulsing figure. A hand swatted his wrist, sending the weapon flying several feet away. Bullet whizzed past to narrowly miss the intruding presence, embedding itself in a wall instead.
Heartbeats soaring, Jaejoong couldn’t think past the sorrow in his heart. He barely registered the shocked gasps, his father’s men bursting into the room and taking hold of the weapon, whisking equally shocked Seungri and unconscious Yunho to God-knows-where. There were so many motions at once, his firing like a snap of fingers that broke some surreal tranquility. Yet Jaejoong wasn’t aware of his surrounding until a soft voice spoke into his ears.
“Don’t….” The voice was no less shaken but the owner stubbornly held on. Arms were carefully circling him, not too loose, not too tight-like an anchor, a safety net. That almost made him cry because his muddled mind noticed, those arms were trembling as badly as his were.
Jaejoong wanted to rebel, to fight away the offending hold. He didn’t deserve the comfort. He deserved to receive that bullet in his skull. He should follow Seungri’s lead and let this day be the end of their suffering. He should let this story end with a definitive ending, might that be a sad ending for them, but a necessary one for the rest of the world. For his foster parents, his sister, his friends, his… his….
Liquid pooled on the fabric covering his shoulder. It made him aware again of the person hugging his body, of the tears the person shed. No. There were already too many tears wasted for him, for someone who didn’t deserve it, who didn’t even deserve to live.
“J-Jaejoong, don’t….” Honorifics lost in the dire situation, the small voice said again.
“Let me die… Please, let this end….”
“No.” For once, the voice was firm. The volume didn’t rise but there was conviction, as if a ‘no’ was the most right thing to say. And for Changmin, at that exact moment, it was.
“I-“
“No,” Changmin repeated without a pause, tightening his hold on the shaking shoulders. The men made to approach them but were waved away by Manra. The old man didn’t move a step from his spot, as if afraid to disturb the delicate balance. “Throwing away your life means betraying the very thing they had been fighting for until the end.”
They. Jaejoong choked on his breath. Han Eundae and Han Saeyoon. His parents. His true parents, even if lies and blood ties betrayed them again and again.
“How... How could I pay for the lives they gave up for me?”
Changmin withdrew his arms, distancing himself just enough to look at shaken midnight orbs. “Do you really need to ask that?” Despite the tears, a crooked smile came across his lips. “Live on to the fullest. Just like what they wanted you to.”
A distant memory came unbidden.
The only lady in the house chuckled, sitting down beside her husband and son. “When you grow up, you must be much much better than Appa and Umma. You must lead a better life, make much money and build a happy family. Do you understand?”
“Yes! will build a biiig house like the ones we saw downtown and we three will live together happily ever after! I can do that because I love Umma and Appa!”
His parents’ dream. Isn’t throwing it away like killing his parents all over again?
“But they are no longer here!” Jaejoong screamed out in defiant frustration.
“Does it matter?!” Changmin’s voice rose as well. “I tried once, Jaejoong, to leave classics because sad memories came with it. But you taught me to come back. When I play again, it feels like coming home…” The hoarse voice was stuck in his throat. “It feels like coming home to my deceased mother. She continues to live in my music. There are sad memories, yes, but there are also many good ones. Sad memories, happy memories, they are everything that has built me into who I am. So if you love them, if you really love them… You already know what you should do, right?”
Come back. Jaejoong remembered a distant memory of himself taking a shower on one cold morning in Jeonju, recovering from another nightmare while preparing for their national rock competition. He saw himself, perched on a corner of studio in Jeonju, cold sweat drenching his forehead, a pair of headsets blasting rock music from Super East album. He had vowed to himself to fight the ghost of his past. Showing the world he could face the music he ran away from, so that he could teach Changmin to also come back.
Jaejoong looked at the face before him. The smile was still there and so were the ever-understanding eyes. Clear liquid traced down planes of smooth cheeks.
How could that be, a person he’d known for a little over two months knew better than himself?
“You’ve been living happily with your parents and eight sisters. You have a best friend who’s willing to do anything for you. You have Kibum-hyung, Junsu-hyung, Eunhyuk-hyung who’ll welcome you within them anytime. You have me…” Changmin trailed off. “Me, who can no longer forget you, no matter when and where the fate decides to pull us apart. Say, Jaejoong, aren’t we important to you? Do you want to see us crumbling, seeing you broken, seeing you break yourself?”
The words were delivered softly. There was no accusation, just sadness. Changmin’s shoulders sagged but the hands stayed firm on Jaejoong’s shoulders. The intense gaze was lowered and, Jaejoong realized with a start, it was to hide a fresh batch of tears that dripped to cold tiles below.
“Why…” Jaejoong raised an arm. A thumb tentatively brushed against a damp cheek. “Why are you saying this to me? Why do you care?”
“Stupid… do you really need to ask?” There was a trace of laughter amidst the tears. Changmin was like that, Jaejoong thought. Caring for his sisters, his band mates like the responsibility was his alone to shoulder. Was the younger man afraid of regret? Regret of letting someone suffer and die when he could have prevented it? Was that the reason?
Those brown eyes returned to stare back at his. Like a magic spell, like every single time, Jaejoong drowned again in them. In the new light, he found an answer.
“You have come barging into my life like no one’s business.” This time, Changmin really laughed. Soft and melodic, like soothing coda after intense verses. “Don’t even think of walking away so easily. Take responsibility, Princess.”
Fingers came to touch an earlobe. Jaejoong whispered, “Your hearing… I have done so many damages, Changmin.”
“It’s fine,” Changmin replied with another whisper, inching closer. “It will heal with time. But maybe you should stay closer, for me to hear you clearer.”
Deep black eyes meeting his brown ones, Changmin knew he had put sense back in Jaejoong’s head. Quietly, he nudged to older boy, subtly pointing at his waiting father. When father and son reuniting in a hug more meaningful than anything he had witnessed, Changmin saw gratitude in the old man’s teary eyes.
This marked a giant ripple in their rhythms but that did not mean the music couldn’t soar again. This time, he was sure it would resound more beautifully than ever before.
.
.
.
TBC
A/N: There is an epilogue coming up and then… :”)
.
[Epilogue]
Chapter: 13b
Pairings: JaeMin, onesided!YunJae, past Changmin/OFC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: POV shiftings and time leaps.
Genre: Drama/Angst/Fluff
Summary: A rookie rocker who runs away from classics and a classical music prodigy who runs away from rock. They bump in the middle.
.
[Part a]
.
Managing to sit with shoulders slumped, Jaejoong vigorously shook his head. He had stopped listening at the point his foster father finished his story. His trail of thoughts was running in circle. No. He refused to acknowledge so much about his earlier life that should rightfully be buried along with his parents’ dead bodies.
Kim Manra was not a stranger to Kim Jaejoong but he was a stranger to Han Jaejoon. Kim Manra was part of his new life, not in this place, where he transformed back into that unsightly son of a street rocker.
“No…”
Manra had been his father for half of his life. But in Jaejoong’s head, in his deepest conscience, Han Eundae was his only father. Despite the dark time he had to suffer because he carried his blood, he always remembered his father’s melodic hum, the energetic strum of guitar against the sound of his mother cooking, the ringing laughter in four-walled space he called home. A home Kim mansion could never be to him.
---flashback---
“You know, Jaejoon-ah?” A man at his 30s entered the house which could barely be called a house, four-plastered one-room house with little to no furniture. He sat down and took the little boy onto his lap. “If you practice, you can be as good as Appa. Do you want to be as good as Appa?”
“Yes! I want to play beauuutiful melody like Appa! I will dedicate it to Umma.”
-----------------------
“No one knows the mighty Jaejoong from Kim family was actually a shabby street rocker who ate trash from place to place?” Seungri finished coldly. “It’s clever, disappearing for eight years straight, letting the Kims fill those years with empty talks about how amazing their youngest son is. You came back home acting as if you’ve been their son all your life. It works; you fit as if you belonged.”
-----------------------
Lie. Every page of his life was a lie.
“N-no.…” Wincing, he repeated the word like a mantra. Try as he might, he never truly threw away his real parents. Deep in his heart, he only acknowledged Han Eundae and Han Saeyoon, the poor street musician and his humble wife, as his parents. How could that be, the history he believed was his… all of it was a lie? The very core of what made him who he was today was a big lie?
“He knew…”
Jaejoong lifted his ashen face at his foster father-or not foster… really, he couldn’t think past the confusion clouding his mind. He gulped, scared to hear the next words.
“Han Eundae knew. Your mother told him. The robbery… they didn’t know how else to pay for necessities and debts that had accumulated over time. If only I knew this beforehand, I could have helped. But guess after my talk with Han Eundae, pride hindered them from asking for my help. I only learned about this when I met them in the prison.” Manra paused to rein in his feeling, closing his eyes in guilt.
“The debt collectors threatened to go after you, Jaejoong. The time was running out; it was the only solution he could come up with. Naturally, your mother disagreed. In the height of their argument, she told him…” Creases lined on the corners of Manra’s eyes. He looked very old, very tired. “She told him you were not his son. He needed not take such risky action for a son who wasn’t his own…”
The next silence that ensued was as good as buckets of ice-cold water pouring over Jaejoong’s heart. Water pooled in his eyes. Breathing ragged, he wanted to believe that everything was a big fat joke. But even his naïve heart couldn’t fool itself.
“So why…?” His voice was hoarse when the tentative question tumbled from his mouth. “Why did he still do it…?”
He saw the answer in Manra’s eyes even before it was uttered.
“Because to him, you are his son,” and I could never compete with the love he gave to you was left unsaid.
Love. The pure love his parents had showered him with. The love that costed them lives. Pitch black eyes widened, Jaejoong realized what he had been doing in the last eleven years. He had been pretending. By running away from rock, he had been trying to erase the past, cutting the remaining link to his real parents. He paid them back by denying the love they had given him in his early childhood.
“You thought you could get away from your past that easily, if you thought leaving rock and entering classics equal to erasing those periods in your life…” Seungri bit out. “Or has the life as a millionaire’s son made you forget?”
Seungri’s words, previously viewed as taunts, came back at him with a force that made him double over in pain. Nausea danced in his gut. Han Eundae, the shabby street musician he tried to forget, he dared not call ‘father’ anymore, had given his life for him. Him-not even his own flesh and blood, yet-
The weight of shame and guilt washed over him in waves. A sudden scream was torn from his throat. He was disgusted at himself, at the ungrateful son he had become.
“Jaejoong?” Wide-eyed, Manra took a step towards him, obviously not intending to break his son like this. Even Seungri watched in wide-eyed wonder as his brother-in-law drowned in self-inflicted mental ache, seemingly more painful than physical blows he had received.
Jaejoong couldn’t decide which fact tore him the most: his birth being a result of his mother’s infidelity, his parents sacrificing their lives for him, betrayal at his foster father who kept him in the dark for so long, or the biting realization of what monstrous son he had grown into.
Realizing how he had come to question the motive behind his parents’ crime, subconsciously blame his parents for what he had to go through after their sentencing-he should have known. There was no other reason for the crime other than his sake, for the sake of… a child who should have never been born in the first place-
“NOOO!” The pain and guilt were too much. “Seungri-hyung...” Jaejoong called out for one name he never thought he would turn to. “Please end this….”
Even his brother-in-law, who barely two hours ago was so intent on ending his life, could only watch in mute, almost sick fascination. Jaejoong was clearly not thinking straight, so caught in web of misery following the revelation of his past. Seungri gasped when Jaejoong’s trembling palm met the gun lying on the floor, knocked out of Seungri’s own hold in the rescue operation earlier.
Jaejoong held the weapon dearly, as if treasuring a welcome way out. Pent up fear, guilt, frustration over his own history exploded. Everything about him was wrong. He was an unwanted child, his parents died because of him, and he paid them back by trying to erase them from his memories, hiding behind the grandeur of Kim’s name. What kind of monster was that?
No. There was no single reason for him to continue living. The gun felt cold against his skin. He welcomed its sensation.
“What are you doing… JAEJOONG!”
But Jaejoong was beyond hearing.
.
.
.
---oOo---.
.
.
Bleary eyes opened. Blinking furiously, brown eyes tried to comprehend their surroundings. The world seemed to have tilted upside down. The dusty storeroom had been launched into tentatively calmer, though no less tense atmosphere. A faintly familiar male voice wormed through Changmin’s cloudy senses.
I… can hear?
A figure stole his attention. A man, work suit clad and highly unfitting to be involved in their situation, droned on a story. The face registered to his brain as Kim Manra, his former lover’s father.
Why is he here? What is he doing?
Brain swirling but instead of finding answer, it seemed to befuddle him further. What had happened in the minutes of his unconsciousness? The last memory he had was of Seungri slapping him hard. Recognizing the scant buzz in his ears, he suppressed a shudder.
Leaning forgotten against a secluded corner wall, he observed that Seungri’s men were no longer present. The door behind Manra was closed, leaving only the old man, an astonished Seungri, and seemingly unconscious trio, including himself. Wisely deciding not to inform them of his awakening, Changmin waited for what would become of this morning event. Through the haze draping over his hearing, he tried to focus on the words and found himself appalled by each revelation.
“… is that true? Is everything you said true?”
“Jaejoong… you’re awake?”
Changmin gasped, almost giving away his condition. Jaejoong was not supposed to hear that. He wasn’t supposed to be aware of such sacred story revealed to open air.
With each denial the older man uttered, Changmin felt a piece of his heart breaking. Jaejoong, always a mystery to him, was now bare and vulnerable in the worst way possible. How would the older man feel, when even Changmin felt unjustified just for involuntarily listening to such personal story?
“So why…?” Jaejoong’s voice was small and pathetic. “Why did he still do it…?”
There was a pause before Manra replied. “Because to him, you are his son.”
Changmin blanched. Unexpected rage and anxiety flared inside him. Wasn’t it obvious that that answer would break Jaejoong apart?
His fear proved true when an anguished scream cut the air. Eyelids tightening, as if closing his eyes would subdue the inexplicable ache his heart suddenly experienced, Changmin wanted nothing but to jump to the older man’s side and shield him from the unforgiving truth.
The sanctuary behind closed eyes didn’t last long. Supposedly small ‘click’ echoed like a bomb in his failing ears. Forcing his eyes open, Changmin felt his heart stop when he watched Jaejoong’s trembling fingers close on Seungri’s gun.
“What are you doing… JAEJOONG!”
Ignoring sharp intakes of breath drawn by unsuspecting audience, forcing all muscles in his body to move, Changmin propelled himself frontward.
For the second time that morning, loud blast echoed in a villa once holding so many sweet memories.
.
.
.
---oOo---.
.
.
4 months later; autumn.
A gust of strong wind ruffled his messy dark hair. Fixing the scarf around his neck, he sighed. Autumn was just around the corner, blowing chill to his skin. Guess outdoor activities should be limited. That included taking long walk from his mansion to a place so far away without the aid of his Audi.
A small smile graced a pair of rosy lips. If Jaejoong had remembered right-he sure had, anyway-he also preferred walking and taking public transportation to driving pricey car around the city. The habit rubbed on him too, it seemed.
Standing in front of his destination, Jaejoong paused for a while. Hesitation clogged within his heart every time he visited this place. No matter how often he graced the place with his presence, memories of what had happened never failed to follow. Of things that could have been prevented, words that should have been saved for another day, feelings that should have been expressed before circumstances force them to.
Jaejoong closed his eyes, for once enjoying the breeze. If it were his excuse for delaying the inevitable, he’d gladly avoid admitting.
“Do you plan to stand outside until tomorrow?”
Lips instantly upturning, he opened his eyes to meet those of a taller man’s. A brow was lifted, sign that the taller yet younger man was waiting for an answer. The other man was not smiling-he looked like he tried hard to suppress a wide grin, though. No need to, because the mismatched eyes already gave him away.
Falling into easy steps beside each other, both of them made their way to the subway station. Comfortable silence draped like a warm blanket upon them. But Jaejoong was here to ask a query or two, so he would not maintain the quietness for long.
“What did the doctor say?”
Changmin did not reply for a while. Jaejoong wondered if it were a bad sign. If there were a reason why he avoided accompanying Changmin to the hospital, it’d be this uneasiness spreading in his chest. He feared the news from the doctor. He feared what future had in store for the younger man.
Sensing the unease, Changmin quirked a smile at his direction. “It’s fine. It’s been four months. The phase is over. At least, it won’t get worse than its current condition.”
Jaejoong released the breath he wasn’t aware of holding. “I’m-“
“-sorry?” The younger man finished for him. “Stop it already. I hate doing this, but I’m saving you from cooking another batch of ddeokbogi tonight.”
Despite himself, a small chuckle escaped Jaejoong’s mouth. Trust Changmin to make him promise a plateful of food each time he felt like apologizing again for what had happened.
“I shall stop the medication, she said. Remind me not to take them this evening,” Changmin muttered thoughtfully.
They trudged past the usual throng of fellow passengers. Smirking at the taller male, Jaejoong mentally jotted down the note. “As you wish, snob.”
A sharp elbow to his side was foreseen. Tapping their citizen subway passes and proceeding to board the train, Jaejoong mulled over this new information. After that fateful day, they were all rushed to the hospital. The injuries were not detrimental, though Yunho had to endure a head scan, making sure the blow to his head was not brain damaging. The results turned out pleasant, much to Jaejoong’s relief.
Changmin, though, was a different story.
The younger man did not suffer from serious external injuries. Still, Jaejoong couldn’t help but fidget when an otolaryngologist checked on him.
“Permanent noise-induced hearing loss usually developed over years. Exposure to incidental loud noise is normally related to temporary disturbance,” the female doctor had explained. “Shim-sshi here, however, was exposed to extremely loud noise for almost 24 hours nonstop and a couple of gunshot sounds within close distance. That and the fact he was acquainted with rock music as of late, I’m afraid the hearing, while able to improve over time, cannot attain the same level as before.”
All five members of Super East who attended the visit had been silent at the information. They were well-informed about their bandmates’ health conditions, albeit not so much about how the injuries happened. Eunhyuk muttered “Gunshot…” while Kibum wearily asked, “Are hearing aids helpful in this case?”
The doctor looked regretful. “Shim-sshi’s problem lies at the neural cells, whilst hearing aids are helpful in problems with the eardrums or ear canals.”
“Isn’t there any way?” Junsu’s frightful voice asked.
“The hearing will improve over time. He will face no problem in daily activities,” she ensured her worried audience. “Some medication will help. But since neurons cannot regenerate themselves, what was done was done. Shim-sshi should adjust his lifestyle and that requires ceasing music activities…”
A series of gasps echoed in the white-washed room.
“But-”
“Doc-”
Jaejoong and Eunhyuk tried to speak at the same time. Immense fear gripped Jaejoong’s heart, making his own black and blue skin fade from contemplation. No. Everything but this. There’s no way he can live without music.
Sensing the group’s immediate distress, the doctor smiled empathetically. “Well, maybe not ‘ceasing’, but ‘toning down’. Rock isn’t a wise choice… maybe you can try classics? Ah.” The female doctor laughed somewhat embarrassedly. “I’m sorry that I don’t understand music much. Being involved in one genre of music doesn’t mean liking all kinds of music, does it?”
Jaejoong’s eyes flicked to glance at Changmin’s impassive face. So far the youngest member hadn’t said anything about his own condition. Even the careless suggestion did not trigger a reaction from him.
Only when all pairs of eyes rested upon him did Changmin finally open his mouth. “I understand,” he had said, somehow too calmly to Jaejoong’s liking. “Please prescribe the medication and I’ll make sure to heed all your advices.”
Probably expecting a more defiant response, if his bandmates’ reactions were anything to go by, the doctor had been surprised at the easy compliance. “Very well,” she had said. “You have to come for control next week, and then every two weeks for the next three months.”
Jerking back to now and here as the train halted at one station, Jaejoong dared a glance at his companion. Beside him, Changmin didn’t even seem to notice the train movement. Hunching with left elbow on one knee and his chin resting on left hand, the younger man’s side profile almost resembled The Thinker statue. This random thought brought a smile to Jaejoong’s lips. Taking advantage of the younger man’s obliviousness, his gaze roved from the solemn doe eyes and straight nose to the slightly parted lips and sharp jaw.
Wondering what in the world Changmin was thinking, Jaejoong too launched into another bout of memory, this time darker than the last.
.
.
.
---oOo---.
.
.
A body collided with his convulsing figure. A hand swatted his wrist, sending the weapon flying several feet away. Bullet whizzed past to narrowly miss the intruding presence, embedding itself in a wall instead.
Heartbeats soaring, Jaejoong couldn’t think past the sorrow in his heart. He barely registered the shocked gasps, his father’s men bursting into the room and taking hold of the weapon, whisking equally shocked Seungri and unconscious Yunho to God-knows-where. There were so many motions at once, his firing like a snap of fingers that broke some surreal tranquility. Yet Jaejoong wasn’t aware of his surrounding until a soft voice spoke into his ears.
“Don’t….” The voice was no less shaken but the owner stubbornly held on. Arms were carefully circling him, not too loose, not too tight-like an anchor, a safety net. That almost made him cry because his muddled mind noticed, those arms were trembling as badly as his were.
Jaejoong wanted to rebel, to fight away the offending hold. He didn’t deserve the comfort. He deserved to receive that bullet in his skull. He should follow Seungri’s lead and let this day be the end of their suffering. He should let this story end with a definitive ending, might that be a sad ending for them, but a necessary one for the rest of the world. For his foster parents, his sister, his friends, his… his….
Liquid pooled on the fabric covering his shoulder. It made him aware again of the person hugging his body, of the tears the person shed. No. There were already too many tears wasted for him, for someone who didn’t deserve it, who didn’t even deserve to live.
“J-Jaejoong, don’t….” Honorifics lost in the dire situation, the small voice said again.
“Let me die… Please, let this end….”
“No.” For once, the voice was firm. The volume didn’t rise but there was conviction, as if a ‘no’ was the most right thing to say. And for Changmin, at that exact moment, it was.
“I-“
“No,” Changmin repeated without a pause, tightening his hold on the shaking shoulders. The men made to approach them but were waved away by Manra. The old man didn’t move a step from his spot, as if afraid to disturb the delicate balance. “Throwing away your life means betraying the very thing they had been fighting for until the end.”
They. Jaejoong choked on his breath. Han Eundae and Han Saeyoon. His parents. His true parents, even if lies and blood ties betrayed them again and again.
“How... How could I pay for the lives they gave up for me?”
Changmin withdrew his arms, distancing himself just enough to look at shaken midnight orbs. “Do you really need to ask that?” Despite the tears, a crooked smile came across his lips. “Live on to the fullest. Just like what they wanted you to.”
A distant memory came unbidden.
The only lady in the house chuckled, sitting down beside her husband and son. “When you grow up, you must be much much better than Appa and Umma. You must lead a better life, make much money and build a happy family. Do you understand?”
“Yes! will build a biiig house like the ones we saw downtown and we three will live together happily ever after! I can do that because I love Umma and Appa!”
His parents’ dream. Isn’t throwing it away like killing his parents all over again?
“But they are no longer here!” Jaejoong screamed out in defiant frustration.
“Does it matter?!” Changmin’s voice rose as well. “I tried once, Jaejoong, to leave classics because sad memories came with it. But you taught me to come back. When I play again, it feels like coming home…” The hoarse voice was stuck in his throat. “It feels like coming home to my deceased mother. She continues to live in my music. There are sad memories, yes, but there are also many good ones. Sad memories, happy memories, they are everything that has built me into who I am. So if you love them, if you really love them… You already know what you should do, right?”
Come back. Jaejoong remembered a distant memory of himself taking a shower on one cold morning in Jeonju, recovering from another nightmare while preparing for their national rock competition. He saw himself, perched on a corner of studio in Jeonju, cold sweat drenching his forehead, a pair of headsets blasting rock music from Super East album. He had vowed to himself to fight the ghost of his past. Showing the world he could face the music he ran away from, so that he could teach Changmin to also come back.
Jaejoong looked at the face before him. The smile was still there and so were the ever-understanding eyes. Clear liquid traced down planes of smooth cheeks.
How could that be, a person he’d known for a little over two months knew better than himself?
“You’ve been living happily with your parents and eight sisters. You have a best friend who’s willing to do anything for you. You have Kibum-hyung, Junsu-hyung, Eunhyuk-hyung who’ll welcome you within them anytime. You have me…” Changmin trailed off. “Me, who can no longer forget you, no matter when and where the fate decides to pull us apart. Say, Jaejoong, aren’t we important to you? Do you want to see us crumbling, seeing you broken, seeing you break yourself?”
The words were delivered softly. There was no accusation, just sadness. Changmin’s shoulders sagged but the hands stayed firm on Jaejoong’s shoulders. The intense gaze was lowered and, Jaejoong realized with a start, it was to hide a fresh batch of tears that dripped to cold tiles below.
“Why…” Jaejoong raised an arm. A thumb tentatively brushed against a damp cheek. “Why are you saying this to me? Why do you care?”
“Stupid… do you really need to ask?” There was a trace of laughter amidst the tears. Changmin was like that, Jaejoong thought. Caring for his sisters, his band mates like the responsibility was his alone to shoulder. Was the younger man afraid of regret? Regret of letting someone suffer and die when he could have prevented it? Was that the reason?
Those brown eyes returned to stare back at his. Like a magic spell, like every single time, Jaejoong drowned again in them. In the new light, he found an answer.
“You have come barging into my life like no one’s business.” This time, Changmin really laughed. Soft and melodic, like soothing coda after intense verses. “Don’t even think of walking away so easily. Take responsibility, Princess.”
Fingers came to touch an earlobe. Jaejoong whispered, “Your hearing… I have done so many damages, Changmin.”
“It’s fine,” Changmin replied with another whisper, inching closer. “It will heal with time. But maybe you should stay closer, for me to hear you clearer.”
Deep black eyes meeting his brown ones, Changmin knew he had put sense back in Jaejoong’s head. Quietly, he nudged to older boy, subtly pointing at his waiting father. When father and son reuniting in a hug more meaningful than anything he had witnessed, Changmin saw gratitude in the old man’s teary eyes.
This marked a giant ripple in their rhythms but that did not mean the music couldn’t soar again. This time, he was sure it would resound more beautifully than ever before.
.
.
.
TBC
A/N: There is an epilogue coming up and then… :”)
.
[Epilogue]