than to dream of
title: than to dream of
pairing: yoosu ♥
rating: PG-13-ish R
2063 words.
err. quickly written one-shot drabble for applesu's upcoming birthday. I know it's in like a month, but I have exams coming up so I had to be prepared! D: excuse the clichés in this thing.
Far from the public eyes, but not always as secret; in fact, it is just that the world sometimes miscalculates their times, people and whereabouts; just behind one wall that separates them from prying eyes, Yoochun watches Junsu’s eyes glow.
He watches his eyes glow as they stare at nothing at all; the TV, the wall or his hands, no more defenses. It is unbelievable how Junsu, wearing his heart upon his sleeve for everyone to see can open up more. A sense of relief washes through him as he follows the man’s footsteps every now and then.
They fell in love over time. There had been nothing to do about it; there had been rejection at first, but the desperate need for comfort has overcome that, too. They are just two guys trying to find a point of balance in life somewhere. There are more days Yoochun can describe as ‘hectic’ than anything else, really. They need this.
Alongside the strong necessity of needing the other, there is also the more innocent, the more incoherent type of love. Yoochun remembers watching Junsu more than needing him sometimes; has found himself wondering about him more than often. With the smallest things the other does he is amazed, even completely astonished, sometimes.
He knows the ways Junsu’s voice creeps through him with emotion, like the sound of a sharp violin on the edge of sound. The sensation is but a breath away from that of nails scratching on a chalk board, and yet…
Something in his heart also tells him that love is a strange thing and he has somehow found it in something less than common, less oh-i-read-that-in-a-magazine; something unrealistic. It stimulates his creativity up to soaring high skies. He’s also fallen, multiple times.
“If you were going to make a pun about the title of my new drama including my or both our names, go ahead and do it while I’m still listening to you talk,” he jokes, kind of, sitting down next to Junsu on the sofa. It is 2 o’clock in the afternoon and they have a schedule, later.
“You put ideas into my head,” Junsu smiles at him, stretching his legs out over his lap. “Beautiful Junsu,” like cake frosting.
“Nobody would ever call you beautiful,” Yoochun says, but he thinks he would not mind trying to figure out some more years, because he is starting to believe that there is no one quite like Junsu.
“No,” Junsu laughs, the joke between them not forgotten. “You will call me ‘handsome’ and I’m not sure that makes you less gay for me,” it is either that, or his forehead being big. Yoochun knows this type of mood.
It is comforting.
Sometimes they are horribly in love. It is never for the same extent of time, but each time is more special; each time is a new feeling to wonder about and fear. Yoochun knows he will maybe have to tell someone, someday. He also knows that maybe, one day, something will pull them apart. The choice was not completely his to make and even if he could have the decision, he would not have known what to do. In or out of love, Junsu is different. Junsu has beautiful flaws, too.
Outside, a heavy downpour overpowers the sound of everything else, sounding like a war and a curtain of arrows blocking out the sun. It is past midnight and Junsu wanders the apartment. Perhaps it is the coffee that keeps him up, but his mind has wandered far beyond the troubles of being awake.
There is such thrill in life. It is somewhat unnerving. He wants to feel it in his bones, but he is physically tired and terrified to trouble his health. Step by step he reaches in closer to a dream and perfects it, completes it for the sake of memory keeping.
And it is selfish for all that it is worth something. He wants to curl his fingertips around something unmoving for a change, but everything is so turbulent that he ends up grasping around nothings; his ex-girlfriend, a group of friends, faith in God and loyalty to himself; they last no minute.
There are a few things he would not exactly know how to get through. These are all ifs but scarily plausible, even when his heart feels light in his chest;
1. The privilege to sing; to be able to sing; to be able to convey a message containing emotion to another human being through the art of song; Junsu has found his pedestal, though yet at its feet. Losing this would mean the end of his life. Like Mozart, he thinks ironically, cutting into some dreamlike childhood conviction to bleed out yet another note; he would sing it out until the end.
2. He does not like to think this way, but a part of him remains conservative. Jaejoong and Yoochun are the only wild spirits around him, riling him up until he finds his own needs. Though he wants to taste freedom badly, there is also the chance of his convictions turning on him and though he prays not, he is afraid that he has to admit one day that he is, after all, human.
3. If bad things were to happen to one of the members, including Yunho and Changmin because they remain no matter what he chooses to believe over time.
If he falls in love with Yoochun, he knows there could be worse things in the world.
Admittedly, he is scared as hell for this to happen anyway. He welcomes Yoochun as much as he is afraid of him when he makes his heart so big and his mind so full. Yoochun can not only be good things; no human is only good things.
As the storm rages on, Junsu pads into Yoochun’s and Jaejoong’s room. During the day, everything is horribly white and gold, something Jaejoong is into. Junsu does not know why he always ends up sleeping with people other than Yoochun, but it seems that he is preventing himself from something happening.
He is silent in the room, not wanting to wake Jaejoong. Luckily, the man sleeps like mister sandman paid him a double visit and Junsu stands at the edge of Yoochun’s bed, not thinking.
Yoochun is awake, because he never sleeps when he is in bed. Yoochun sleeps in weird places, curling up on their couch or on top of his keyboard in the music room. Yoochun watches him, slightly questioning. He knows what the other is thinking and Junsu is afraid he might be giving away too much now. They are not seventeen, but twenty-one; the night has been the same as always.
He slips under the covers anyway, allows Yoochun to turn his back to him and then curls up against him. His arm slips around the other man’s waist, fingers skimming the thin fabric of his T-shirt and holding on to it somewhere on his abdomen. He flexes them, rests his palm on the slow rising of the other’s breath.
It is warm, but not uncomfortable. Junsu feels ice-cold, so he presses into Yoochun more and the man presses back in a way that invites him. Perhaps that one last time, when Yoochun was holding his hand at the airport; or that time when he randomly embraced him during a radio show; maybe it is that time that they were breathless, backstage, just looking at each other.
At this point they should be laughing, but there is something desperate now. Yoochun grabs at his fingers and slips them under his shirt instead, the unexpected warmth coming from the man’s skin confusing him almost. Swallowing once, Junsu presses his face against the other’s nape, his mouth nearly ghosting over Yoochun’s ear as he whispers;
“What?” he wonders, his eyes closed as he repeats it, “what…?”
Yoochun hesitates, stiffening his upper body before he reaches back with his arm and pulls one of Junsu’s legs over his. The latter closes in more, bringing his arm around the other man’s chest tightly, until he can press his face against the side of Yoochun’s jaw.
The closest they get to kissing his some half-attempt at pushing their mouths together, tongues meeting briefly until their teeth knock together and the position becomes uncomfortable. Yoochun’s does not turn around, maybe because he is afraid of the confrontation, but pulls on Junsu’s arm more and draws in his leg again.
With every cell of his body tangled to Yoochun’s back, Junsu falls into an unsteady breathing pattern where he tries up to pick the other’s. He fails miserably, especially when there is a little cant of Yoochun’s hips and a breath becomes a shiver that strengthens his grip on Yoochun’s skin.
He is not able to let it escalate. He feels too close to the other now, far too sad about something. There is something left to work out.
Junsu smiles so brightly from in between the sheets in the morning, even with his hair messed up and his make-up gone. He is brave, facing the day. Yoochun touches his fingertips to the other’s cheek and traces its shape as Junsu grins at him.
“What’s with those eyes,” Junsu does not really ask, because he knows Yoochun hates questions in the morning. He just presses his legs against the man’s underneath the sheets and Yoochun realizes all over again how he is never going to get over this when he has to.
“Not my eyes,” he complains instead, now using his arm to shield his face from any light. “You say enough things about my forehead,” he adds with a dash of deadpanned sentiment and peeks open one eye around his hand to see Junsu staring down at him.
“We keep on reinventing ourselves,” the man starts, looking a little nostalgic around the edges of his expression. Yoochun drops his arm and just stares up at him.
“Are you talking about last night? Because I totally thought we had done that before,” he feels the smile tickle the corners of his mouth, but he knows Junsu is being serious, so he accepts the pillow in his face silently.
“This, too. You make me absolutely crazy,” Junsu chokes on something that is supposed to be a giggle, but he starts looking so sad at the same time. Yoochun pushes aside the pillow and pulls the other man down to him, until he feels Junsu’s weight on top of him and meets his eyes inches away.
“You’re happy,” Yoochun states, watching the way Junsu’s lashes flutter. It is bizarre, but he can feel it in his chest now, the familiar tightening and expanding of his needs. There is a confirmation on the other’s lips and he needs to hear it. After all of this, he needs it to keep him sane.
especially after never having really done ,
“I’m in love with you, Yoochun,” he says, as if it is so easy, but Yoochun knows it is not. It has taken years for them to figure out how to unbutton one another after a show, it has taken them even longer to get to this.
anything at all
“Stupid,” is what Yoochun says and Junsu nods as he kisses him, nods as he links their hands together on Yoochun’s pillow. “So stupid,” Yoochun repeats, when they rob each other of breath in between a kiss.
you can’t be the one
They are in love again, all over. Another moment to surpass later in life, to keep it all going. Yoochun does not even know if his mother knows any girls, or wants him to meet them. Yoochun does not even know if Junsu still likes the same girls his brother does.
no you can’t be
There is no mistaking this. Yoochun’s back arches off the bed with very following touch, allowing himself this time. There has not been any hesitation for a long while, but Yoochun still recognizes it in the way Junsu prepares him and kisses him. It is not something magical, but it feels too far to touch.
“Hey,” Junsu says, tugging on Yoochun’s sleeve. He feels like he is gossiping, but he curls his fingers into the other’s palm. “Hey, maybe this will work, some day.”
I truly loved
which is harder to do
than to dream of.
note:
I need to stop writing these serious things and move on to the happier. I meant this to be happy, so don't doomplot a bad ending in your head, or anything. I just don't write upbeat easily.
applesu, happy very early birthday, I'm sorry that I didn't write something more complete. You seem like a nice person, so I just wanted to let you know.
The italic bits are from two different songs: the first bit of text is the last bit of the song 'give me what I want' and the last bit of text is out of 'true loves', both can be listened to on this crappy video: it has somewhat of a long intro though so prepare to skip some
pairing: yoosu ♥
rating: PG-13-ish R
2063 words.
err. quickly written one-shot drabble for applesu's upcoming birthday. I know it's in like a month, but I have exams coming up so I had to be prepared! D: excuse the clichés in this thing.
Far from the public eyes, but not always as secret; in fact, it is just that the world sometimes miscalculates their times, people and whereabouts; just behind one wall that separates them from prying eyes, Yoochun watches Junsu’s eyes glow.
He watches his eyes glow as they stare at nothing at all; the TV, the wall or his hands, no more defenses. It is unbelievable how Junsu, wearing his heart upon his sleeve for everyone to see can open up more. A sense of relief washes through him as he follows the man’s footsteps every now and then.
They fell in love over time. There had been nothing to do about it; there had been rejection at first, but the desperate need for comfort has overcome that, too. They are just two guys trying to find a point of balance in life somewhere. There are more days Yoochun can describe as ‘hectic’ than anything else, really. They need this.
Alongside the strong necessity of needing the other, there is also the more innocent, the more incoherent type of love. Yoochun remembers watching Junsu more than needing him sometimes; has found himself wondering about him more than often. With the smallest things the other does he is amazed, even completely astonished, sometimes.
He knows the ways Junsu’s voice creeps through him with emotion, like the sound of a sharp violin on the edge of sound. The sensation is but a breath away from that of nails scratching on a chalk board, and yet…
Something in his heart also tells him that love is a strange thing and he has somehow found it in something less than common, less oh-i-read-that-in-a-magazine; something unrealistic. It stimulates his creativity up to soaring high skies. He’s also fallen, multiple times.
“If you were going to make a pun about the title of my new drama including my or both our names, go ahead and do it while I’m still listening to you talk,” he jokes, kind of, sitting down next to Junsu on the sofa. It is 2 o’clock in the afternoon and they have a schedule, later.
“You put ideas into my head,” Junsu smiles at him, stretching his legs out over his lap. “Beautiful Junsu,” like cake frosting.
“Nobody would ever call you beautiful,” Yoochun says, but he thinks he would not mind trying to figure out some more years, because he is starting to believe that there is no one quite like Junsu.
“No,” Junsu laughs, the joke between them not forgotten. “You will call me ‘handsome’ and I’m not sure that makes you less gay for me,” it is either that, or his forehead being big. Yoochun knows this type of mood.
It is comforting.
Sometimes they are horribly in love. It is never for the same extent of time, but each time is more special; each time is a new feeling to wonder about and fear. Yoochun knows he will maybe have to tell someone, someday. He also knows that maybe, one day, something will pull them apart. The choice was not completely his to make and even if he could have the decision, he would not have known what to do. In or out of love, Junsu is different. Junsu has beautiful flaws, too.
Outside, a heavy downpour overpowers the sound of everything else, sounding like a war and a curtain of arrows blocking out the sun. It is past midnight and Junsu wanders the apartment. Perhaps it is the coffee that keeps him up, but his mind has wandered far beyond the troubles of being awake.
There is such thrill in life. It is somewhat unnerving. He wants to feel it in his bones, but he is physically tired and terrified to trouble his health. Step by step he reaches in closer to a dream and perfects it, completes it for the sake of memory keeping.
And it is selfish for all that it is worth something. He wants to curl his fingertips around something unmoving for a change, but everything is so turbulent that he ends up grasping around nothings; his ex-girlfriend, a group of friends, faith in God and loyalty to himself; they last no minute.
There are a few things he would not exactly know how to get through. These are all ifs but scarily plausible, even when his heart feels light in his chest;
1. The privilege to sing; to be able to sing; to be able to convey a message containing emotion to another human being through the art of song; Junsu has found his pedestal, though yet at its feet. Losing this would mean the end of his life. Like Mozart, he thinks ironically, cutting into some dreamlike childhood conviction to bleed out yet another note; he would sing it out until the end.
2. He does not like to think this way, but a part of him remains conservative. Jaejoong and Yoochun are the only wild spirits around him, riling him up until he finds his own needs. Though he wants to taste freedom badly, there is also the chance of his convictions turning on him and though he prays not, he is afraid that he has to admit one day that he is, after all, human.
3. If bad things were to happen to one of the members, including Yunho and Changmin because they remain no matter what he chooses to believe over time.
If he falls in love with Yoochun, he knows there could be worse things in the world.
Admittedly, he is scared as hell for this to happen anyway. He welcomes Yoochun as much as he is afraid of him when he makes his heart so big and his mind so full. Yoochun can not only be good things; no human is only good things.
As the storm rages on, Junsu pads into Yoochun’s and Jaejoong’s room. During the day, everything is horribly white and gold, something Jaejoong is into. Junsu does not know why he always ends up sleeping with people other than Yoochun, but it seems that he is preventing himself from something happening.
He is silent in the room, not wanting to wake Jaejoong. Luckily, the man sleeps like mister sandman paid him a double visit and Junsu stands at the edge of Yoochun’s bed, not thinking.
Yoochun is awake, because he never sleeps when he is in bed. Yoochun sleeps in weird places, curling up on their couch or on top of his keyboard in the music room. Yoochun watches him, slightly questioning. He knows what the other is thinking and Junsu is afraid he might be giving away too much now. They are not seventeen, but twenty-one; the night has been the same as always.
He slips under the covers anyway, allows Yoochun to turn his back to him and then curls up against him. His arm slips around the other man’s waist, fingers skimming the thin fabric of his T-shirt and holding on to it somewhere on his abdomen. He flexes them, rests his palm on the slow rising of the other’s breath.
It is warm, but not uncomfortable. Junsu feels ice-cold, so he presses into Yoochun more and the man presses back in a way that invites him. Perhaps that one last time, when Yoochun was holding his hand at the airport; or that time when he randomly embraced him during a radio show; maybe it is that time that they were breathless, backstage, just looking at each other.
At this point they should be laughing, but there is something desperate now. Yoochun grabs at his fingers and slips them under his shirt instead, the unexpected warmth coming from the man’s skin confusing him almost. Swallowing once, Junsu presses his face against the other’s nape, his mouth nearly ghosting over Yoochun’s ear as he whispers;
“What?” he wonders, his eyes closed as he repeats it, “what…?”
Yoochun hesitates, stiffening his upper body before he reaches back with his arm and pulls one of Junsu’s legs over his. The latter closes in more, bringing his arm around the other man’s chest tightly, until he can press his face against the side of Yoochun’s jaw.
The closest they get to kissing his some half-attempt at pushing their mouths together, tongues meeting briefly until their teeth knock together and the position becomes uncomfortable. Yoochun’s does not turn around, maybe because he is afraid of the confrontation, but pulls on Junsu’s arm more and draws in his leg again.
With every cell of his body tangled to Yoochun’s back, Junsu falls into an unsteady breathing pattern where he tries up to pick the other’s. He fails miserably, especially when there is a little cant of Yoochun’s hips and a breath becomes a shiver that strengthens his grip on Yoochun’s skin.
He is not able to let it escalate. He feels too close to the other now, far too sad about something. There is something left to work out.
Junsu smiles so brightly from in between the sheets in the morning, even with his hair messed up and his make-up gone. He is brave, facing the day. Yoochun touches his fingertips to the other’s cheek and traces its shape as Junsu grins at him.
“What’s with those eyes,” Junsu does not really ask, because he knows Yoochun hates questions in the morning. He just presses his legs against the man’s underneath the sheets and Yoochun realizes all over again how he is never going to get over this when he has to.
“Not my eyes,” he complains instead, now using his arm to shield his face from any light. “You say enough things about my forehead,” he adds with a dash of deadpanned sentiment and peeks open one eye around his hand to see Junsu staring down at him.
“We keep on reinventing ourselves,” the man starts, looking a little nostalgic around the edges of his expression. Yoochun drops his arm and just stares up at him.
“Are you talking about last night? Because I totally thought we had done that before,” he feels the smile tickle the corners of his mouth, but he knows Junsu is being serious, so he accepts the pillow in his face silently.
“This, too. You make me absolutely crazy,” Junsu chokes on something that is supposed to be a giggle, but he starts looking so sad at the same time. Yoochun pushes aside the pillow and pulls the other man down to him, until he feels Junsu’s weight on top of him and meets his eyes inches away.
“You’re happy,” Yoochun states, watching the way Junsu’s lashes flutter. It is bizarre, but he can feel it in his chest now, the familiar tightening and expanding of his needs. There is a confirmation on the other’s lips and he needs to hear it. After all of this, he needs it to keep him sane.
especially after never having really done ,
“I’m in love with you, Yoochun,” he says, as if it is so easy, but Yoochun knows it is not. It has taken years for them to figure out how to unbutton one another after a show, it has taken them even longer to get to this.
anything at all
“Stupid,” is what Yoochun says and Junsu nods as he kisses him, nods as he links their hands together on Yoochun’s pillow. “So stupid,” Yoochun repeats, when they rob each other of breath in between a kiss.
you can’t be the one
They are in love again, all over. Another moment to surpass later in life, to keep it all going. Yoochun does not even know if his mother knows any girls, or wants him to meet them. Yoochun does not even know if Junsu still likes the same girls his brother does.
no you can’t be
There is no mistaking this. Yoochun’s back arches off the bed with very following touch, allowing himself this time. There has not been any hesitation for a long while, but Yoochun still recognizes it in the way Junsu prepares him and kisses him. It is not something magical, but it feels too far to touch.
“Hey,” Junsu says, tugging on Yoochun’s sleeve. He feels like he is gossiping, but he curls his fingers into the other’s palm. “Hey, maybe this will work, some day.”
I truly loved
which is harder to do
than to dream of.
note:
I need to stop writing these serious things and move on to the happier. I meant this to be happy, so don't doomplot a bad ending in your head, or anything. I just don't write upbeat easily.
applesu, happy very early birthday, I'm sorry that I didn't write something more complete. You seem like a nice person, so I just wanted to let you know.
The italic bits are from two different songs: the first bit of text is the last bit of the song 'give me what I want' and the last bit of text is out of 'true loves', both can be listened to on this crappy video: it has somewhat of a long intro though so prepare to skip some