The House that Housed Love
The House that Housed Love
yoosu; pg-13 (non explicit); 1,379 words
a/n: inspired by an amazing writer in my creative nonfiction class. this is a thanks.
This house. This house saw everything.
//
This house provides shade.
Yoochun comes over when Junsu is hunched over on his desk, falling asleep on a math problem, far too tired to do it. It's easy for Yoochun to tell - Junsu still has his shorts from soccer practice on, his cleats half-toed off, under his desk.
"Who let you in?"
"Picked your lock."
"Did not."
"Did your heart skip a beat?"
"No."
Yoochun plops down onto Junsu's bed, tosses his soccer ball into the air, catches it, and repeats the process. "Not even just from seeing me?" Yoochun laughs, his eyes trained on the ball, on the streaks of sunlight on the ceiling. It's late May, warm and sunny before the sun sets. The breeze, much like Yoochun, has welcomed itself into the room.
Junsu throws a smelly, fresh-from-practice sock at him.
The house absorbs their laughter.
//
The house provides a door, a shield.
When they were playing around, more of Yoochun's dirty words and Junsu's smelly socks lead to wrestling, a game of mercy where neither of the young men wants to admit loss. Junsu rolls them over, landed on top and pinning Yoochun down. His knees and palms are rubbed red against his carpet, Yoochun laughing below him, not under.
"Are you going to kiss me now?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Shy?"
Junsu lets out a short laugh, flips himself over to lie next to Yoochun. "I won."
"I let you win."
"You wish you did. You suck."
"Do you want me to?"
Junsu makes a face, is about to say something when his mom calls him for dinner, asking if Yoochun is eating with them again. Again.
He rolls onto his side, head propped up by his hand, "Are you going to-"
Yoochun kisses him. It's a messy thing, Junsu's eyes are open.
His lips are still when Yoochun pulls back with small grin on his face, "Opps."
Not even a sorry or an excuse me. Yoochun Park says opps instead and Junsu almost wants to laugh. Almost. Other parts of him want to scream, want to pray and ask what just happened. "Uhm, are you-"
"I don't think I should." Yoochun finally blinks, giving Junsu the will to look away and sit up.
Yoochun gets up to leave, and Junsu stares at the invisible straight line his footprints form.
He stops Yoochun before he gets to the door, presses him against it and kisses him.
They jump when Junsu's mother knocks on the door, sending Junsu's heart flying. Yoochun laughs at his reaction, taps their lips together before opening the door, tucking both hands in his pocket. "Sorry Mrs. Kim. My mother expects me today."
The house tries to absorb Junsu's nerves.
//
The house looks on when they try it for the first time.
It's Friday evening and Junsu just gets back from practice, his parents are out. There is a knock on the door while he's pouring iced water for himself. What greets him is a gasping Yoochun, the setting sun behind him. "I got here in time."
"For what?" Junsu asks, eyebrows arched as he takes a sip from his glass, eyes trained on Yoochun.
"Before sunset, stupid. That's when you become the ugly ogre."
Junsu crunches down on an ice cube, speaking around it, "And?"
"And I've come to cure you silly." Yoochun kisses him with tongue, his warmth mixing with the ice in Junsu's mouth.
They stumble up stairs to get to Junsu's bedroom.
Yoochun peels Junsu's sweaty clothes off, tastes the salt and spring on his skin. It takes him forever to get it all the way inside. Their movements are jerky, untrained, and clumsy.
Junsu arches his head back when he comes; the last thing he sees is the crucifix above his headboard.
The house absorbs his uncertainty.
//
The house is the keeper of secrets.
"Junsu, why don't you bring Yoochun to church with us?" His mom asks over Sunday morning breakfast. The sun lays low in the sky, its rays peaking into the house and listening.
"Yoochun goes to his own church." It's not a lie. Yoochun does go to another church but Junsu knows that Yoochun rarely wakes up for early mass, goes to church even less often.
They come home late as usual. He says his goodnights and has plans to fall asleep in his Sunday clothes. Junsu throws himself on his bed, arms outspread and legs hanging of the edge. He's about to fall asleep when he hears something at his window.
"Junsu." He recognizes it as Yoochun voice and goes over.
"What if I had been sleeping?"
"I would have woken you up."
"Congratulations, Mr. Obvious, you win a prize." Junsu leans on his window frame, chin propped up in his hands.
"Let me in."
Junsu shakes his head, sighing. "The back door's open. Just try to be quiet." He knows his parents are asleep by now. He feels his heart pound as he lies down on his bed, presses a hand over it and tries to calm it.
Yoochun opens and closes the door behind him with a small click.
"What happened?"
Yoochun drops something onto the floor that Junsu doesn't look at. "Mom got mad at me. I'm staying over for tonight." He drops himself onto Junsu's bed with a smile.
"You assume I'll let you stay?"
Yoochun chuckles, "Wouldn't you?" before he tilts Junsu's chin up with two fingers, and kisses him slow and sweet.
"Yoochun, my parents are home."
"They're asleep, right?"
Junsu nods.
"We'll just have to be quiet."
The house provides pillows. He muffles his moans into them, face turning away every so often to catch a breath, to release Yoochun's name. It watches on as young, grinning boys love and fuck and love.
And time and time again, the house will provide pillows.
//
Before he falls asleep.
"Yoochun why don't you go to church?"
"Why do you?"
"Don't you believe in God?"
"Who said I have to go to church to believe in God?"
//
His mom shakes him awake and the other after Just five more minutes is something along the lines of Oh my - Yoochun!. Mrs. Kim seems to not be as worried as he is, and when Junsu looks over to his side, Yoochun is no longer there. All there is the same sunlight that covers that spot every morning.
"Awake yet?"
He mumbles "Yes, mom.” rubbing his eyes and trying to chase his fatigue away.
"Good. What is Yoochun doing here?"
Junsu sits up, realizes how naked he is under the sheets, and does his best to make it so his mother doesn't notice. He looks around, spots Yoochun on the floor next to his bed, in a sleeping bag. "He got into a fight with his mom."
"Well, wake him up dear. We'll drive you both to school."
Junsu waits until she leaves to attempt to get up and walk.
//
The house hears music.
Yoochun writes songs while lying on his stomach on Junsu's floor, legs kicking back and forth alternately behind him. He looks up at Junsu at his desk, reading something from the textbook in front of him, his pen scratching messy letters onto lined paper. Yoochun grins and stares like a girl, studies the lines that form when Junsu crinkles his eyebrows, wants them to be the next lines to his song.
Junsu speaks without looking up. "I can't feel you staring at me."
Yoochun's grin only grows bigger. "I’m picturing you naked."
Junsu laughs. "Lucky you get the privilege."
"I'm trying to write a song."
"I'm trying to do my homework."
The house hears the music at night, spilled and splashed over white sheets.
Ink.
Junsu.
//
This house saw love and kept it safe. Even when the boy it housed left for another city, another state, another love. The house sees a Yoochun that passes by every other day, a Yoochun that waits outside, pretends he drops something. The house sees the Yoochun that eventually stops returning. No one lives in the house anymore. In a few years, more people will age and grow and leave. The new kids in the neighborhood won't dare near the house that housed love, because they will think that it is haunted by ghosts.
And they will be half right.
yoosu; pg-13 (non explicit); 1,379 words
a/n: inspired by an amazing writer in my creative nonfiction class. this is a thanks.
This house. This house saw everything.
//
This house provides shade.
Yoochun comes over when Junsu is hunched over on his desk, falling asleep on a math problem, far too tired to do it. It's easy for Yoochun to tell - Junsu still has his shorts from soccer practice on, his cleats half-toed off, under his desk.
"Who let you in?"
"Picked your lock."
"Did not."
"Did your heart skip a beat?"
"No."
Yoochun plops down onto Junsu's bed, tosses his soccer ball into the air, catches it, and repeats the process. "Not even just from seeing me?" Yoochun laughs, his eyes trained on the ball, on the streaks of sunlight on the ceiling. It's late May, warm and sunny before the sun sets. The breeze, much like Yoochun, has welcomed itself into the room.
Junsu throws a smelly, fresh-from-practice sock at him.
The house absorbs their laughter.
//
The house provides a door, a shield.
When they were playing around, more of Yoochun's dirty words and Junsu's smelly socks lead to wrestling, a game of mercy where neither of the young men wants to admit loss. Junsu rolls them over, landed on top and pinning Yoochun down. His knees and palms are rubbed red against his carpet, Yoochun laughing below him, not under.
"Are you going to kiss me now?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Shy?"
Junsu lets out a short laugh, flips himself over to lie next to Yoochun. "I won."
"I let you win."
"You wish you did. You suck."
"Do you want me to?"
Junsu makes a face, is about to say something when his mom calls him for dinner, asking if Yoochun is eating with them again. Again.
He rolls onto his side, head propped up by his hand, "Are you going to-"
Yoochun kisses him. It's a messy thing, Junsu's eyes are open.
His lips are still when Yoochun pulls back with small grin on his face, "Opps."
Not even a sorry or an excuse me. Yoochun Park says opps instead and Junsu almost wants to laugh. Almost. Other parts of him want to scream, want to pray and ask what just happened. "Uhm, are you-"
"I don't think I should." Yoochun finally blinks, giving Junsu the will to look away and sit up.
Yoochun gets up to leave, and Junsu stares at the invisible straight line his footprints form.
He stops Yoochun before he gets to the door, presses him against it and kisses him.
They jump when Junsu's mother knocks on the door, sending Junsu's heart flying. Yoochun laughs at his reaction, taps their lips together before opening the door, tucking both hands in his pocket. "Sorry Mrs. Kim. My mother expects me today."
The house tries to absorb Junsu's nerves.
//
The house looks on when they try it for the first time.
It's Friday evening and Junsu just gets back from practice, his parents are out. There is a knock on the door while he's pouring iced water for himself. What greets him is a gasping Yoochun, the setting sun behind him. "I got here in time."
"For what?" Junsu asks, eyebrows arched as he takes a sip from his glass, eyes trained on Yoochun.
"Before sunset, stupid. That's when you become the ugly ogre."
Junsu crunches down on an ice cube, speaking around it, "And?"
"And I've come to cure you silly." Yoochun kisses him with tongue, his warmth mixing with the ice in Junsu's mouth.
They stumble up stairs to get to Junsu's bedroom.
Yoochun peels Junsu's sweaty clothes off, tastes the salt and spring on his skin. It takes him forever to get it all the way inside. Their movements are jerky, untrained, and clumsy.
Junsu arches his head back when he comes; the last thing he sees is the crucifix above his headboard.
The house absorbs his uncertainty.
//
The house is the keeper of secrets.
"Junsu, why don't you bring Yoochun to church with us?" His mom asks over Sunday morning breakfast. The sun lays low in the sky, its rays peaking into the house and listening.
"Yoochun goes to his own church." It's not a lie. Yoochun does go to another church but Junsu knows that Yoochun rarely wakes up for early mass, goes to church even less often.
They come home late as usual. He says his goodnights and has plans to fall asleep in his Sunday clothes. Junsu throws himself on his bed, arms outspread and legs hanging of the edge. He's about to fall asleep when he hears something at his window.
"Junsu." He recognizes it as Yoochun voice and goes over.
"What if I had been sleeping?"
"I would have woken you up."
"Congratulations, Mr. Obvious, you win a prize." Junsu leans on his window frame, chin propped up in his hands.
"Let me in."
Junsu shakes his head, sighing. "The back door's open. Just try to be quiet." He knows his parents are asleep by now. He feels his heart pound as he lies down on his bed, presses a hand over it and tries to calm it.
Yoochun opens and closes the door behind him with a small click.
"What happened?"
Yoochun drops something onto the floor that Junsu doesn't look at. "Mom got mad at me. I'm staying over for tonight." He drops himself onto Junsu's bed with a smile.
"You assume I'll let you stay?"
Yoochun chuckles, "Wouldn't you?" before he tilts Junsu's chin up with two fingers, and kisses him slow and sweet.
"Yoochun, my parents are home."
"They're asleep, right?"
Junsu nods.
"We'll just have to be quiet."
The house provides pillows. He muffles his moans into them, face turning away every so often to catch a breath, to release Yoochun's name. It watches on as young, grinning boys love and fuck and love.
And time and time again, the house will provide pillows.
//
Before he falls asleep.
"Yoochun why don't you go to church?"
"Why do you?"
"Don't you believe in God?"
"Who said I have to go to church to believe in God?"
//
His mom shakes him awake and the other after Just five more minutes is something along the lines of Oh my - Yoochun!. Mrs. Kim seems to not be as worried as he is, and when Junsu looks over to his side, Yoochun is no longer there. All there is the same sunlight that covers that spot every morning.
"Awake yet?"
He mumbles "Yes, mom.” rubbing his eyes and trying to chase his fatigue away.
"Good. What is Yoochun doing here?"
Junsu sits up, realizes how naked he is under the sheets, and does his best to make it so his mother doesn't notice. He looks around, spots Yoochun on the floor next to his bed, in a sleeping bag. "He got into a fight with his mom."
"Well, wake him up dear. We'll drive you both to school."
Junsu waits until she leaves to attempt to get up and walk.
//
The house hears music.
Yoochun writes songs while lying on his stomach on Junsu's floor, legs kicking back and forth alternately behind him. He looks up at Junsu at his desk, reading something from the textbook in front of him, his pen scratching messy letters onto lined paper. Yoochun grins and stares like a girl, studies the lines that form when Junsu crinkles his eyebrows, wants them to be the next lines to his song.
Junsu speaks without looking up. "I can't feel you staring at me."
Yoochun's grin only grows bigger. "I’m picturing you naked."
Junsu laughs. "Lucky you get the privilege."
"I'm trying to write a song."
"I'm trying to do my homework."
The house hears the music at night, spilled and splashed over white sheets.
Ink.
Junsu.
//
This house saw love and kept it safe. Even when the boy it housed left for another city, another state, another love. The house sees a Yoochun that passes by every other day, a Yoochun that waits outside, pretends he drops something. The house sees the Yoochun that eventually stops returning. No one lives in the house anymore. In a few years, more people will age and grow and leave. The new kids in the neighborhood won't dare near the house that housed love, because they will think that it is haunted by ghosts.
And they will be half right.