[FIC] Never Too Late
Title: Never Too Late
Summary: Yoochun attempts to deal with his unrequited one-sided love; Junsu can't get past his homophobia.
Pairing: Yoosu
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance
Warning: depression, heavy drinking
Disclaimer: Don't own the boys. Won't ever.
Yoochun never noticed the steady decline of his own physical and mental health until he reached the bottom of the abyss and truly realized the horribly unhealthy state he was in.
He never ate as much as he usually did, never slept as much as he usually did, but he passed those signs off as normal; he just lacked any appetite, and he had strange sleeping habits anyways. Yes, he did smoke and drink, but the amount had gradually increased, a miniscule change every day until he realized all the packets of cigarettes he had horded were gone faster than he would have thought, and the emptiness where mass bottles of soju were stocked mocking him. The reflection in the mirror showed a starved man with heavy bags under his eyes looking drained and exhausted, skin stretched tight over his face and cheeks beginning to hollow, ribs showing clearly through. Maybe this was why the makeup slathered became thicker, his clothes several sizes larger than his small frame, no longer showing off as much skin as the other members.
But more often than not, he ignored all these pressing signs of his abused body and concentrated on his emotional turmoil, which turned to all the smoking, alcohol, and reckless behavior he exhibited far more frequently than before.
Love hurt. A lot. So much that it felt as if someone stabbed him in the abdomen and twisted the knife, then pulled it out and continuously plunged his body over and over again until he was a bloody mess, his life liquid pouring out his body rapidly and then using acid, cauterizing his wounds before he bled to death so he was stuck not-quite-dead but fervently wishing he could die.
Maybe it was even more painful. He didn’t know how to measure it and only knew that his sanity was already teetering on the edge. Sooner or later, he was going to snap.
After so many years of repression and denial, the one person Yoochun could not fall in love with had completely taken possession of his heart no matter how hard he tried to suppress the feelings. It was frustrating, whenever a single whisper, a single touch, a single smile would send his heart fluttering erratically, his breath quickening to the brink of breaking into an asthma attack, fantasizing things that were definitely not morally acceptable, especially not to him.
Kim Junsu
.
He was Yoochun’s precious member of DBSK, and that fact was already an invisible boundary between them, a fine sheet of glass he knew he could break but at the cost of numerous painful, bleeding wounds on both sides. He also knew that Junsu was a devout Christian like Yoochun was… but the type that condemned homosexuality and had a difficult time accepting the erroneous existence of people who loved others of the same gender. Some nights he would overhear Junsu kneeling on his bed, head bowed and hands clasped to pray for what he called “sinners” to rediscover “light”.
Maybe Yoochun should have felt disgusted or insulted by the other’s obvious show of homophobia right in front of three very gay members, but he only felt heavy disappointment and pain weighing in his heart, knowing that Junsu’s religious tendencies only set an even larger, unbreakable barrier between the two. It was no longer glass but thick impenetrable iron, permanently blocking him from the younger. For the better, Yoochun’s pessimistic mind would supplement sometimes. It was better that the younger stayed away from him, a clear sinner who indulged in drinking, smoking, and occasionally picked up scantily-clad girls from certain massage bars spread in particular locations of the city to vent his sexual frustration, stumbling back some nights carrying the scent of a disgusting mix of cheap alcohol, cigarettes, and sex. From out of the corner of his eye, his intoxicated mind made out a quick flash of disapproval and sadness on Junsu’s face before he wordless helped him into the shower, washing gently away all the traces of taint on his skin before leading him to his bed. In comparison, Junsu was a virtuous and pure angel who shouldn’t even touch Yoochun, whose sexual orientation had already landed him a firm place in the fiery depths of Hell, much less show so much care to him.
The baritone rapper still clearly remembered the day when Junsu accidentally discovered the legitimacy of YunJae and had charged to where Yoochun was busy composing songs, looking frazzled and horrified as he frantically wringed his hands. “Hyung! I just... I just saw…” He was trembling, eyes wide open in terror as he collapsed beside the other, looking more troubled than Yoochun had ever seen him.
Eyeing the desperate way the younger clenched his treasured cross, he had a feeling he knew what was wrong. If that was Junsu’s reaction to Yunho and Jaejoong, then what would he say if he found out another gay man had loved him? Not just any gay man, but the very person he would confide his deepest worries and fears from his heart without a second thought? Yoochun didn’t want to imagine.
He waited patiently until the other’s fearful panting gradually became normal again. “I see you finally found out,” Yoochun finally said in a conversational tone, eyes focused but not seeing on his messily scribbled lyrics as he absent-mindedly twirled his fountain pen between calloused fingers.
“You knew, Yoochun… and you didn’t tell me...”
Yoochun tried to ignore the accusing stare and the words laced thick with betrayal as he penned in another sentence on his wrinkled paper. “There was never a good time.” He didn’t want Junsu to be hurt, he added silently in his head, he didn’t want the angel Su to know about Yunho and Jaejoong’s affairs, immoral and revolting in the younger’s eyes. It was better for him to be shielded before his innocent image of two men he looked up to were permanently corrupted.
“Why?” Junsu whispered, eyes trained on the fan spinning lazily above head. “Why are they doing this? Why?”
The simplest, three-lettered word held so much meaning and significance that had Yoochun’s heart breaking once more into millions of tiny glass shards that pierced deeply into him in a way only Junsu could achieve. His pale hand shook, the fountain pen dropping out of his firm grasp with a loud thud and rolled away under the table. “It’s love,” he said simply, dragging himself out of the wooden chair and bent under the table, hand scoping the wooden floor in search for his writing tool before finally finding it tucked away in a small corner.
“But they’re both men! They could perfectly find beautiful girlfriends,” Junsu protested weakly, helping Yoochun up.
The baritone’s fingers tingled from the warm touch of the younger, feeling the beginning of fluttering butterflies in his stomach again. “Does it matter? Junsu-ah, love is love.”
“But-but…” words faltered on Junsu’s lips, desire flaring through Yoochun as he stared at those oh-so-kissable lips, wishing he could clear the distance with a few simple steps and claim them as his. His hands clenched into fists, threatening to break the pen’s thin form.
Yoochun sighed wearily and rubbed his temples, all the built up stress suddenly flooding open. “Su…” he began tiredly, breaking his eye contact away from those lips before the temptation was too great and settled back onto his work, “they’re still your hyungs. They’re still human beings. Nothing has changed about them except their love for each other. Is that really too hard to understand?”
The room lapsed into silence, filled only by the rustling of paper as Junsu quietly contemplated his words. At last he said, “How are you okay with it? We share the same faith, don’t we?”
Because I’m in the same situation, he wanted to say. But instead he said, “I grew to understand it. Love is love. It shouldn’t be oppressed.” He nearly snorted at the cruel irony of his words; if he listened to his own advice, he was willing to bet all his earnings that it would send Junsu running out of the room and pretend Yoochun didn’t exist.
“… I guess,” the younger reluctantly admitted. Suddenly, he sprang up and pounced on Yoochun, wrapping his arms tightly around him into a large embrace. Burying his face in the warmth of the other’s wool sweater, he said, “Thanks.” Yoochun’s stunned body eventually reacted to the abrupt show of affection, bringing his own arms up to return the affectionate hug and swallowed nervously as his mind began to wander into territories he shouldn’t be breaching.
Even after Junsu had left, Yoochun found himself curling tightly into a ball as he hugged himself, wishing desperately to keep the residue warmth and scent of Junsu’s body as he stared longingly at the door left slightly ajar. His keen ears picked up the two eldest’s voices, apologetic and ashamed, interweaving with Junsu’s unusually solemn one to create a harmony of reconciliation and hesitant acceptance. But Yoochun knew that later in the day, the younger would be praying for their hyungs’ wellbeing and naïve hope that they would find female life partners in the future, pretending that this was all simply a short phase and would pass one day. The baritone wondered just how long it would take before Junsu would come to the realization that things would likely perpetually remain the way they were, and that Yunho and Jaejoong might never even fleetingly consider another person for as long as they lived.
Present day Yoochun sighed as his thoughts inevitably focused once more on Junsu and rolled over, shoving his blankets off to the side and got up quietly. The sky had fully darkened a long time ago, and all the members were asleep (possibly with the exception of Changmin, but no one ever knew when the maknae would wake up to rifle through the kitchen for midnight snacks. He was hoping his timing would be lucky enough), he stealthily crept out their shared bedroom, casting a glance at their youngest’s bed, unsure whether the confusing lump of blankets and pillows hosted Changmin, or if it was simply just a clump and the other was lurking in the kitchen. Tip-toeing out the door, he let out a muted sigh of relief as the kitchen was empty. His vision, now fully adjusted to the moonlight, quickly zeroed in on the refrigerator, cautiously extracting a bottle of soju. After a moment of contemplation, he withdrew another two and retreated onto the couch, opening a glass bottle and drinking straight from it.
He closed his eyes contently, feeling the familiar burn of the strong drink flow down his throat in a fiery trail, instantly warming his body. Taking a few more generous gulps, he felt as if he was pleasantly enwrapped in a thick cocoon of warmth, courtesy of the alcohol coursing through his veins. His mind was gradually becoming sluggish and hazy, his movements steadily more clumsy as he popped open the second and downed its entire contents, empty glass bottle clattering loudly onto the floor as his grip slackened. “Stupid Junsu,” he muttered darkly under his breath, “all his stupid fault.” Unconsciously he opened the last bottle and gulped, some of the soju dribbling out of the corner of his mouth from his sloppy act. Inelegantly wiping the sticky liquid away with the sleeve of his pajama, he sighed and got up, stumbling to the refrigerator to retrieve more.
“Stupid Junsu,” he repeated again, his mind a whirl of emotions and chaos as he tried to discern the strange, bubbly happiness from the alcohol and the angst and depression that threatened to pour out. He blinked in surprise, raising a shaking hand to touch his cheek where he felt a drop of wetness slowly etch a trail on his skin, his eyes welled with more salty tears that continuously spilled forth and before he knew it, his breath had become irregular and he was hiccupping, biting vainly onto his arm to stop as his thin frame shook with heavy sobs. Somewhere in between the midst of crying, he finished the third and had gone through a fourth, even a fifth as his judgment was long tossed out the window and shattered into pieces, still hysterically crying and muttering slurred insults mixed with other strange things his incoherent mind had cooked up.
It was all Junsu’s fault for causing him so much pain, so much of the stabbing, burning, inexplicable indescribable pain in his heart that raged on despite all the soju he had foolishly consumed. Even the severe amount of alcohol could not waive the sorrow that gripped him. He only felt despair, the realization that the probable love of his life was never going to look at him the same way he did, only obliviously believing everything was simply close friendship and fanservice, at most. Goddamn it. Even all the random girls he had been with, the nondescript, faceless, nameless females he played around with briefly never ignited this sort of fierce passion, not even his first crush so many years ago.
“Why did I fall in love with you? Hahahaha,” Yoochun laughed drunkenly and wiped his eyes with soaked-wet sleeves, humming the first few bars of his odd harmony. “God, I feel like that guy. Hahaha.” He hiccupped inelegantly, the splitting sound of another glass bottle crashing onto the floor deaf to his ears. If he was more attentive, perhaps he would have also noticed the slight creak of the door to their shared bedroom, a face poking out, eyes groggy with sleep.
The dark almond-colored eyes instantly cleared, however, when he caught sight of his band mate sprawled gracelessly on the couch as he tightly clutched a pillow with tell-tale empty bottles littered around him, alternating oddly between crying, laughing, cursing, and humming unfamiliar melodies. The young male’s thirst promptly forgotten, he rushed to Yoochun and forcefully tugged him into a proper sitting position, wincing as the other only fell right back onto his shoulder and became a dead weight. He shifted slightly so the older was resting comfortably on his chest instead.
“I fucking hate dolphins,” Yoochun mumbled, sniffling.
The other wrinkled his nose at the offending odor of alcohol but raised an eyebrow in confusion. Didn’t Yoochun love dolphins? Clearing away the bottles the best he could with his hands full of the older, he snatched a tissue and delicately wiped the other’s eyes and cheeks, all damp from the ceaseless crying. Absent-mindedly, he ran a gently hand through Yoochun’s soft hair as the other’s sobs slowly ceded to hiccups, his breathing beginning to become regular again, and tears no longer flowed.
But it was at that moment that the other snapped out of his drunken haze and realized a certain someone had been cuddling and petting him lovingly; thus his mind defaulted to defensive mode and roughly shoved the offender away, out of his warm embrace. “Go away!” he snapped and backpedalled awkwardly to the edge of the sofa, words slurring together as he eyed Junsu’s stunned form suspiciously as if Junsu was about to take advantage of him, which in his mind, he was. Mercilessly playing with his heart again.
“Huh?” The “dolphin” finally reacted and blinked in shock as Yoochun began to cry again, tears spilling forth but he made no effort to wipe them. “Hey, I only want to help,” he said soothingly, sidling next to Yoochun, who jumped up and away from his grasp. “Seriously, what’s going on?”
“You!” The baritone rapper pointed an accusing finger at him. “I fucking hate you!”
The hurtful statement only further muddled Junsu’s mind as he stared at the other, who was still clinging on the tear-soaked cushion. “What’s going on, Yoochun?” he repeated in bewilderment, walking over. “I don’t understand. Please explain to me.”
Yoochun attempted to thrash out and struggle as Junsu wrapped his strong arms around his form. Curse all the other’s working out and his own laziness! Wriggling in Junsu’s tight hold, he was bodily carried back and plopped onto the couch once more. He curled himself into a small ball, muffling his cries in the cushion and tried to ignore the comforting hand rubbing relaxingly up and down his back. “I’m so sick of you,” he finally said, refusing to meet the other’s eyes. “I’m so sick of everything about you that I never want to see you again.”
Hearing those sharp words, Junsu felt as if his heart just broke, pierced in half by an arrow. His best friend had just proclaimed he hated him and never wanted to see him again, and Junsu simply could not make out a proper reason behind the uncalled detestation. “… Why? Why, Yoochun-ah?”
Drawing a deep, rattling breath, Yoochun replied, “You’ll never understand me.” He buried his face in the cushion and hiccupped once, not wanting to see the other’s wounded expression.
“… I see what this is about now,” Junsu said, his tone unusually bitter, his heart unusually jealous of their lead singer. Now he understood. “I know I’ll never be like Jaejoong-hyung. I know I won’t ever understand every bit of you like he does. But give me a chance, at least, to take back whatever I did.”
“Give you a chance?” Yoochun repeated? He threw back his head and laughed, a hollow and insane sound. “That’s so rich, coming from you. I gave you a thousand chances, even now, and you were always too blind to see. You’re still too blind to see.” He tossed the cushion harshly at Junsu, whose shell-shocked form was too frozen to dodge the flying object, and stood up.
“You know what,” he sighed, voice more even than previously, “Please, just forget tonight. Forget everything I said. Forget all of this” - he gestured wildly to the mess - “This never happened.” Stumbling out of the living room with a hand trailing along the wall, he disappeared behind his studio as the door slammed shut in an ominous finality.
Yoochun fell onto his knees the minute he heard the door close, breaking out into fresh sobs all over again as he clawed at his shirt in frustration. What was he saying? What was he doing? The alcohol was ruining his conscience, made him say stupid things to Junsu and broke his heart. But it was better that he and Junsu stayed away from each other, before anything worse transpired between each other, before he lost his sanity.
He still could not forget the embrace that gave him a sense of security he had never experienced before, the delicate hands drying his tear-stained face, and the comforting rubbing of his back.
Why did he have to love his own gender?
Why did he have to fall in love with Junsu, of all men in the world?
Why?
Curling into a small ball once more, he cried and never felt so pathetic, so miserable, and so in pain.
~*~
Junsu sat there dumbfounded as he stared blankly at the studio door even though Yoochun had long disappeared behind it, distinct, broken sobs escaping through the wood and into Junsu’s ears. All of the older’s words still continued to ring in his head, repeating themselves in an unending pattern of confusion and hurt.
I hate you. I’m so sick of you. I don’t ever want to see you again. You’ll never understand me. I have you a thousand chances, but you were too blind to see.
You’re still too blind to see.
Please, just forget tonight. Forget everything I said.
Every word stabbed him deeply, his mind still too numb to process everything that had occurred in such a short span of time. Just what had he done to lose his best friend like that? What did he do to hurt Yoochun so acutely he no longer wanted to have anything to do with him?
He just couldn’t come up with a clear conclusion on the matter, no matter how hard he tried.
His mind was simply blank, and the lead singer barely registered the noise of another door opening, the numerous footsteps of his other members emerging sleepily from their room and into the mess. Perhaps, not so sleepily as he took a closer look and was mildly surprised. The eldest, Jaejoong, wore an expression of a strange mix of exasperation, disappointment, and worry, eyes darting over to Yoochun’s locked room. Yunho laid a placating hand on his shoulder, a small frown gracing his features, while Changmin outright glared at Junsu with enough dark intensity to make the other flinch and look away.
Someone flicked on the lights; Junsu wasn’t sure because he was too busy trying to keep eye contact with Changmin, who was almost emitting a dark aura that threatened to swallow him whole. “… What’s going on?” he finally asked, feeling as if the rest of the members all seemed to know something that he didn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time, but this time it deeply involved both him and Yoochun.
Jaejoong shot him a look with that strange mix of emotions Junsu simply didn’t understand and took off quickly to where their most sensitive member was hiding, slipping behind the door with cat-like grace and closing it noiselessly behind him. This left the sleep-deprived Yunho and a malicious Changmin to plop down on the couch and join him at both sides, sandwiching him uncomfortably. He slid towards the elder of the two, deciding that it was a much safer bet than the younger, whose displeasure continued to pour out of him.
“You’re an idiot, hyung,” Changmin declared, innocently stretching his feet and they strayed right on top of Junsu’s, pressing down so hard he let out a small squeak of pain.
The leader sighed deeply as he glared disapprovingly at the youngest whilst ruffling Junsu’s mussed-up hair with father-like affection. “Ignore Changmin, he isn’t making much sense.” His hand inched towards the maknae and tugged sharply at his ear, causing him to exclaim loudly in pain as well. “Junsu-ah, I’m going to ask you a serious question.”
It was times like these that accentuated Yunho’s fatherly tendencies, and Junsu could not help but be oddly pressured as if his own father was addressing him in such fashion. “O-okay.”
“How disturbed are you by Jaejoong and my relationship?”
Junsu’s face immediately reddened, not expecting such a question to be asked. It was one thing to secretly disapprove of their relationship in his mind, but completely different to outright proclaim his inner opinion. It was completely rude and disrespectful to his hyungdul, who were evidently smitten by each other. “Umm… I… I mean… that is… umm-” he stammered disjointedly.
“That’s the problem,” Yunho cut him off, knowing that the lead singer wouldn’t be able to form coherent sentences. “Your homophobia.”
“What has that got to do with anything?” Junsu’s blush deepened, and he yelped again as Changmin brought his feet down and smashed right into his abused ones.
“Changmin,” Yunho said warningly.
“You’re such an idiot, hyung,” the maknae huffed exasperatedly, crossing his arms. “You can’t be this blind can you? Oh wait, you are.”
“Hey!” Junsu punched the other in the shoulder, but not with his usual vigor. Turning back to their leader, he said, “I still don’t quite understand.”
“Oh my god, Junsu! Yoochun’s in-” the rest of his words were left garbled as Yunho abruptly pounced on him, pinning him onto the couch with a hand muffling him and the other holding his flailing arms. Only after Changmin completely stilled did he let go. Glaring with more intensity than before, he turned back towards Junsu.
“Yoochun just needs to come to terms with some… unsolved feelings… he’s very confused with right now. It’s better for him to say, because the rest of us really have no right to say anything about it.” He aimed a strong kick at the maknae, who had opened his mouth to say something. “However though, be gentle with him no matter what happens. He’s fragile and shattered enough as it is. Promise me that, Junsu-ah.”
The other nodded numbly, still not comprehending fully. Unsolved feelings? Yoochun’s fragile? Be gentle? Huh? And what was Changmin about to say? Yoochun’s in depression, in distress, in pain? None of those words fitted properly; there was one that lingered in his mind and taunted him, but he refused to acknowledge the option. In his mind, it simply wasn’t possible, not even in the slightest. Casanova Yoochun, who flirted with any girl he passed, who positively oozed grease and cheesiness, who picked up random women off the streets and in bars deep in the night to vent off his sexual frustration. No, he had to be thinking too much.
“Well, does this… thing… have to do with his health right now?” Junsu may be slow, but he wasn’t completely blind to their member’s rapidly deteriorating situation. Everyone had noticed how Yoochun was delving into numerous unhealthy habits that were showing harshly through; there was only so much you could do to hide it, and in Yoochun’s lost state he hadn’t even bothered to do anything about the blatantly damaging life style he had suddenly adapted.
As soon as he brought up the topic, there was an instant dark cloud gloom that hovered over the trio at the reminder of the baritone’s condition. Every time they approached him, it was as if he didn’t even notice the hole he got that only got deeper, or he pretended to be clueless. Their manager had even proposed to bring Yoochun to the therapist if it continued, only to be fiercely fended off by all of them. He just needed more time.
That’s what they hoped, anyways.
Yunho finally took the initiative to answer. “… I believe so…”
They lapsed into depressing silence
“Anyhow, back to bed. Even though we have no schedule tomorrow, staying up like this is unhealthy,” the leader said strictly, lightly prodding the younger two off the couch and guiding them back to the bedroom like sheep. “Come on now.” As soon as the two climbed into bed and was situated comfortably, he switched off the lights and left the room, shutting the door quietly to what Junsu presumed to be the room where their band ‘mother’ must be comforting Yoochun at this moment.
He rolled around uneasily, finding it strangely difficult to shut down his whirling mind, a chaotic mess of disconnected thoughts that haunted him. Judging from the other occupant’s breathing, Changmin was very much awake as well, not even making an effort to pretend to be asleep. It wasn’t until much later, when three sets of footsteps timidly tip-toed back in, finding their beds with practiced ease, did Junsu feel fatigue at last. Focusing on their individual breathing patterns, he eventually fell into a fitful slumber, a distinctive hiccup and irregular breath bothering him even when he drifted off.
Yoochun… was he still crying?
~*~
Yoochun bolted upright from the bed, woken up by extreme discomfort. His stomach was churning nonstop and waves of nausea consumed his senses, the bile hovering at the back of his throat. Clamping a hand over his mouth, he scrambled off the bed and darted towards the direction of the bathroom, lifting up the toilet cover and promptly emptied out his stomach’s contents… he thought. As he leaned back after he finished and clumsily wiped away bits of undigested material at the corners of his mouth, he felt another wave overtake him and bent over the toilet again, puking noisily into there.
This was his body’s way of expelling all the excess alcohol, along with the splitting headache he was currently experiencing. But knowing that fact only made him feel even more horrible on the inside as he mentally berated himself for completely losing it last night, saying unwanted things and doing unwanted things that left a huge mess in their household only he could fix. The catch was, he didn’t. If only he could magically erase yesterday night’s events, then everything would be alright. Being the best actor of the group, he could pretend nothing had changed between him and Junsu and ignore his bleeding heart in hopes that he would move on… some day.
A very far away some day it was.
He soon became acutely aware of soft hands brushing his hair back away from the watery mess he was still depositing into the toilet bowl, a low murmur of comfort over the gross hacking. When he finished at last, his throat was on fire and he tasted the distinct tang of blood at the back of his mouth. The same pale hands let go of his hair and reached over to flush, then took a tissue and wiped his mouth with care, whispering more words of comfort to his eager ears. He was pulled into a warm, familiar embrace and accepted a glass of water gracefully, downing most of its contents in one go. “Thanks, Jaejoong,” he rasped hoarsely, severe fatigue from all the puking and lack of sleep adding on to the raging headache that only impossibly increased.
“You alright now?” Jaejoong asked softly, handing him a tablet of painkillers as if reading his mind.
Popping the pills in and swallowing them dry, he said, “Yeah… much better.”
“You shouldn’t have drunk so much last night. You know you couldn’t handle it,” the other berated sternly, but with a hint of worry set in the firmness.
Yoochun closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I know… but I didn’t know what I was thinking last night. Sorry.”
One simple word was enough to convey so many different meanings. He was sorry for drinking so much, sorry for making a mess, sorry for disturbing everyone’s sleep, sorry for disrupting his relationship with Junsu, and all of that he knew Jaejoong would understand intimately, being the one who understood all of his heart.
The lead singer sighed wearily. “Love makes people do things… remember when Yunho and I weren’t together yet?” He chuckled at the humorous memories of all the ridiculous things he had done and was easily coerced into doing by Yoochun and later, Changmin.
Yoochun smiled slightly as he recalled a failed attempt Jaejoong had pulled to seduce the then very straight Yunho; to no one’s surprise their “clever” plan had completely collapsed and backfired on all of them. It was many weeks later when awkward ice between the two eldest members was finally broken, thanks to the ever so sunny but clueless Junsu.
… Junsu…
The smile dropped as quickly as it came. “What am I going to do? I feel as if I’m steadily… dying… not just my emotional state, but my body, too. Half the time, I don’t even know what’s going on.”
Jaejoong regarded him with troubled eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Don’t you know what you’ve been doing to yourself these past weeks?”
Yoochun tilted his head to a side in confusion. “… No?”
For a moment, it looked like the other was about to punch him in the face before he regained control. “You’ve barely slept, barely ate, barely did anything, barely smiled, barely talked, barely paid attention to our schedule and activities, smoked double of what you used to, drank double of what you used to, disappeared off every other night and came home smelling like alcohol and sex.” He paused for a breath in midst of his rant. “Yoochun-ah, you’ve been nothing but a ghost this whole time, and we’re all very, very worried. You wouldn’t even talk to me anymore.”
The younger’s eyes widened in shock. He… had done all that? Part of his consciousness acknowledged it evenly, which horrified him even more; he had lost himself so deeply in heartache that everything else had been tossed away and abandoned. “I never noticed…” he said in a whisper.
Jaejoong clenched and unclenched his fists. “We’re all worried, you know. It’s time you’ve stopped this, before it’s too late. Before you really become sick and get yourself landed in the hospital. Please.”
But Junsu… Yoochun’s thoughts continuously jumped back onto his person of interest. He just couldn’t stop thinking about the man 24/7, as obsessive as it became.
As if reading his mind once more, the other said, “Either you try to move on, which isn’t working, or you confess.” But he knew that the odds of the latter working were infinitesimal. If anything, it would only worsen the situation, and DBSK may very well fall apart from the inner mayhem.
“You know as well as anyone why confessing isn’t going to work.” This conversation was clearly going in circles. Yoochun point-blank refused to consider the possible of confessing his love even fleetingly; it would not lead to any good, not when Junsu was so adamantly against homosexuality.
“This can’t continue though,” Jaejoong snapped, harsher than he had meant to. His tone softened immediately when the younger visibly flinched. “I know it’s hard, but you’re going to fall apart like this and you know it. It’s only a matter of time. Just please, be selfish for once. Don’t care about the consequences. Junsu would come to understand it eventually.”
Yoochun laughed hollowly. “Eventually,” he repeated flatly. “Eventually. It’s just going to cause a rift. My heart tells me I can’t stop loving Junsu, but I’m never going to confess. I don’t want to ruin what I have with him. The simple friendship we have right now is enough for me.” Besides, he thought morbidly for the umpteenth time, it was better for Junsu to stay away from him, a sinful existence in comparison with the other’s humane perfection.
Seconds after the words left his mouth, they both heard a door slam sharply behind them and jumped at the abrupt sound.
Jaejoong instantaneously leapt to his feet and peeked his head out, only to draw back shakily, face paler than normal as he said, “… I think Junsu heard us…”
Everything came crashing down then as panic flooded Yoochun senses, and he found himself unable to form proper words, disjointed thoughts flashing through his head.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Junsu heard him. It was over.
No…
His breaths transformed into quick gasps, finding it strangely more and more difficult to pull in oxygen by the second, a heavy, suffocating tightness in his chest that wouldn’t relent no matter how hard he tried to breathe. There was just not enough air. The walls and windows were closing in on him, trapping him in to choke him to death as he curled his body into a ball, hoping somehow, the tension could be released.
It wasn’t working.
His panicked state only worsened his hyperventilation as his disoriented mind registered that he was having an asthma attack, a very bad one. Fingers fumbled around his pockets, searching frantically for his inhaler and found none. They were empty.
Ohgodhewasgoingtodie
Yoochun distantly heard chaos of objects shattering as they were thrown out onto the floor while Jaejoong rummaged the bathroom cabinets in a frenzied state. “Where the hell is it?!” the older seethed in frustration. Seeing his best friend in a chalky ghostly white shade, curled on the floor, immobilized and unable to breath, obviously dying and he couldn’t find the damn inhaler. A small compact mirror shattered in his tight grip, tiny glass shards imbedding themselves as they broke skin and cut into flesh, but he didn’t feel the stinging pain and hot droplets of blood spilling.
Dashing out the room and leaving the destroyed bathroom as if a tornado had just ripped through, he screamed, “Call the ambulance! Yoochun’s dying!”
The words echoed emptily in Yoochun’s mind as he felt himself gradually slipping away, unable to focus clearly on the situation anymore, his mind murky with darkness crawling around the edges of his vision, swallowing it whole, and he was gone, slipping sideways onto the cold tiled floor and did not move. He gave in.
~*~
Junsu stirred uneasily in his sleep and pulled the covers stubbornly muffling his face and cutting off fresh air, swinging his legs over onto the floor and left his bed a rumpled mess. His mind felt so exhausted he could fall over and be asleep, but at the same time so strangely exhausted he just ended up curled in the warm sheets staring blankly at nothing until he finally gave up on the entire affair and decided to freshen up before everyone else. Just as he was about to stealthy creep towards the bathroom the best he could in his slow state, he heard noises issuing out the bathroom door and abruptly halted as he deciphered the two voices as Yoochun and Jaejoong.
A bubble of jealousy rose, and he was filled with sudden desire to push open the door and demand what they were doing, preferably followed up by bodily dragging out and replacing the elder by Yoochun’s side and comfort him. Surprised by his strange and violent thought, he settled for leaning against the door and eavesdropping. Typically he would let them have their own space, but he had the nagging feeling that this private conversation most likely dealt with the confusion from last night.
“We’re all worried, you know. It’s time you’ve stopped this, before it’s too late. Before you really become sick and get yourself landed in the hospital. Please…” Jaejoong’s muffled words drifted through, and Junsu found himself mentally nodding vigorously in agreement. Yoochun was definitely not going to last very long in his sickened state, and everyone hoped fervently he was going to snap out of it as soon as possible.
He scooted closer to the door, straining for the answer, only to hear Jaejoong speak after a moment of silence. “Either you try to move on, which isn’t working, or you confess.”
Confess?
Junsu’s stomach dropped as his mind became horrified. Confess to… him? Did Yoochun…
No.
Maybe Yoochun liked another girl that he was involved with, but when he wracked his brain he couldn’t remember the last girl he dated that Yoochun showed any interest in, or met personally for the matter. Or maybe it was just a female friend he had that he was particularly close to, but those friends were almost all just as close to Yoochun as to him.
It was impossible for Yoochun to love him though. Men simply didn’t love other men; people shouldn’t like their own genders. It was completely and utterly wrong to do so, and the Bible clearly stated that “a man shall not lay with a man as he lays with a woman”, Leviticus 20:13. He remembered that verse, and all other verses that forbade homosexuality as he had sought refuge in the holy book upon finding out about Jaejoong and Yunho’s relationship. At night before he went to sleep, he would recite them in his head and reiterate to himself that hopefully the two will realize what they were doing was sinful and move on to beautiful, talented girls that suited them.
Besides, Yoochun didn’t like guys. Sure, he made casual jokes every now and then about fancying another man, but who didn’t do that? It was all in fun spirits, Junsu was confident. It had to be.
“You know as well as anyone why confessing isn’t going to work.” Yoochun finally spoke.
His strong wall of denial was crumbling, just barely.
“This can’t continue though.” Jaejoong sounded very distressed as he uttered the words, and Junsu could just imagine his hyung’s fierce and aggravated expression as he tried to force sense into a despairing Yoochun. Then the eldest continued with heart stopping words. “I know it’s hard, but you’re going to fall apart like this and you know it. It’s only a matter of time. Just please, be selfish for once. Don’t care about the consequences. Junsu would come to understand it eventually.”
His name was mentioned…
Did that mean…?
He felt dazed, overwhelmed, terrified, and a whole whirlwind of emotions as he fidgeted impatiently and fearfully for the other’s reply.
It wasn’t really what he thought, was it? God, please don’t let it be.
“Eventually… eventually… It’s just going to cause a rift. My heart tells me I can’t stop loving Junsu, but I’m never going to confess. I don’t want to ruin what I have with him. The simple friendship we have right now is enough for me.”
Yoochun had not even finished speaking when a wave of disgust overtook Junsu, and bile rose to his throat. He clamped his hands over his mouth before the burning liquid spewed forth into their room and fought to keep it down, but the entire situation was wholly absurd and so wrong. He broke into a panicked run out of the bedroom and slammed the door roughly, proceeding to throw on a jacket, slipping on his running shoes, bolting down the hallway, down the stairs, and outside where fresh, chilled air of early morning was plentiful and cleansing, and he took several lungful gulps of liberating oxygen before breaking into a brisk jog down the back road behind their dormitory.
This couldn’t be happening.
Yoochun loved him.
Yoochun.
His band mate. His best friend. His brother.
Then all the teasing, all the touches, all the words, all the laughter, all the fanservice… Everything had taken on a dark double meaning that shone through the presumed coat of friendliness to reveal plain, undisguised shows of loving affection that he was too blind to see for all too long. These acts, he should have realized their true intentions a long time ago and pushed the other firmly back before it was too late.
It was wrong on so many levels, breached so many taboos of the society that it made him dry heave several times when crushing disgust flooded through him again. There were too many problems he could list off to why the relationship would not work in any way. Yoochun should have known better, should have fallen in love with a woman like him that suited his tastes however vague they were, should have realized that his feelings were sinful and being Christian was even more of a reason to not to fall in love.
No, this emotion wasn’t love. Love did not exist between the same gender. It had to be admiration or brotherly affection confused for romantic love shared only between a man and woman.
He just couldn’t fathom the other’s feelings.
Maybe, he thought ludicrously, he could find a woman that acted and looked like him and introduce her to Yoochun, who would hopefully and ideally ditch his feelings for Junsu and transfer them whole-heartedly onto the other person, who would be somewhat of replacement. There were too many flaws in the plan to even consider it though, and he’d feel terribly guilty for that woman for indirectly using her for his own benefit, and Yoochun’s. He wasn’t even going to try and pretend it was all selflessly for the other, because he was still too revolted and appalled by the accidental discover.
Besides… there was another strange jolt of jealousy and possessiveness that briefly took over his mind at the thought of another woman sharing intimate moments with his band mate and being privy to future information that he would not know, surpassing every other relationship the other had. Another woman would surely swallow all the time they shared, and Yoochun, being the doting boyfriend, would selflessly devote all his time until him and Junsu was no more, just like every other friend he had in the past that drifted away as soon as they found a girl. There was an antsy feeling at the back of his conscious that coyly suggested his jealousy came from an even deeper root. Perhaps… mutual feelings? He roughly shoved the poisonous idea away and was once again replaced by the same disturbing facts he was currently plagued with.
Another man liked him! And it was Yoochun, of all people!
The sentences persistently repeated in his head as he began to feel slight exertion from the running, and he raised a hand to wipe away sweat droplets beginning to form on his forehead.
But more importantly, what was he going to do? Obviously he had woken up the entire household with his dramatic door slam, at the same time alerting the two soul-mates of his unwanted presence as they secretly conversed behind his back. He didn’t know how to face all of them, especially Yoochun. How was he going to explain his childish behavior, and how was he going to act around Yoochun? Now that he knew the other loved him… the very idea was still extremely awkward and nauseating. He wanted to have a nice, sustaining relationship with his best friend, but the revelation had irreversibly changed everything between the two of them, and he wasn’t quite sure of what he wanted out of it now anymore. Pretend nothing happened? Accept the other’s feelings and tell him calmly that it will never work? Flat out refuse the other and ignore him until he destroyed his misplaced feelings?
There was also the glaring matter of the fact that Junsu had caused all the physical and emotional damage on Yoochun for the past few months, and the guilt mixed heavily in with his other competing emotions, rising to the top above everything else.
His thoughts frustrated him more and more, until his jogging began to slow down, and he found himself halting to a stop in front of a bench.
Repulsive gay love or not, the more important question was, what should he do? He knew all too well that if he turned down Yoochun, the man would continue to self destruct and eventually waste away and become a shell - no, he was already a shell, but not quite empty. A simple ray of hope drove Yoochun through and through, and if the light disappeared, how would he cope?
Junsu growled in frustrating, aiming his foot at a lone acorn on the street and kicked it. To his chagrin it flew much further than anticipated and landed on a random pedestrian’s head. The stranger halted sharply in surprise and turned around, glaring at the culprit. Blushing tomato red, Junsu promptly apologized and sprinted the other direction, hoping the man did not catch his face too clearly.
“Asia’s biggest star Kim Junsu spotted pelting innocent man with dangerous weapon!” The paparazzi ate everything up and exaggerated matters completely out of proportion, and that certainly was not something he’d like to see in the afternoon online.
In the midst of his turmoil, Yoochun’s drunk, wavering voice began to serenade to him in a horribly off tune rendition of Magic Castle, and it was a few seconds later when he registered that said man was not standing next to him completely wasted; that was, in fact, his phone that had began to ring. Junsu briefly wondered which prankster had changed his ringtone into something so… so wretched and painful to the ears.
The familiar number of Yunho flashed on the smudged screen, and he hastened to pick it up. The leader was surely very worried about his whereabouts now. He must’ve woken everyone up in the middle of his mini-tantrum. “Hello?” he answered breathlessly, not yet fully recovered from the impromptu morning workout.
“Junsu.” The older man’s tone was unusually grave, sending off warning bells in Junsu’s head. “I… well… Yoochun is in the hospital.”
His mind was sluggish from lack of comprehension. Then his heart dropped to his stomach, and the phone nearly slipped through his hand, grip lax in shock
.
“WHAT?!” he shrieked, voice shooting up octaves. “Wait, what happened?”
There was a brush of static, then the snarky tone of the youngest came through. “You happened, hyung.”
“W-what’s that supposed to mean?” Junsu spluttered. Did they…?
“We all heard you this morning. Duh…” Changmin replied, and Junsu could almost see the other rolling his eyes at his apparent denseness. “You’re such an idiot, seriously.”
Another brush of static was heard, causing him to wince.
“Anyways, we need you to come here as soon as possible. We’re at the main hospital in Seoul, and please don’t let anyone see you. We can’t afford having the paparazzi make a big deal out of this and find out what’s going on.” Yunho was back, and Junsu’s heart twisted again at the sound of the other pleading, once again reminded that he was the source of the problem, even if the other did not state anything vaguely accusatory.
“I’ll be on my way right now.”
~*~
It wasn’t until Junsu stepped quietly into the cold hospital room when he realized how truly fragile Yoochun had become, and how much he had neglected.
In the middle of the pale white room, Yoochun’s skin was even paler, stretched over bare flesh and bones, his usual full, chubby cheeks now gaunt and pale, even paler than the snow-white sheets. Collarbones jutted out too sharply, his wrists too thin that Junsu was afraid he’ll snap just by wrapping his hands around them. The full pink lips were colorless, and there were dark circles under his peacefully closed eyes. His black hair lacked its usual luster.
Everywhere Junsu looked was too unhealthy, too thin, too pale, too fragile, so much that he felt tears welling in his eyes at the pitiful sight of his bandmate, so weak he needed to be hooked on machines, pumping nutrients into his body with every drip of the IV, and the mask that provided the oxygen his weak lungs could not pull in by themselves.
Words of the doctor still rang ominously in his head.
“The patient has been heavily malnutritioned the past few months, with a profound lack of proper food and sleep, and too much overworking. With a degree of asthma like his, it’s a wonder he didn’t have an attack any sooner. There are obvious signs of severe mental stress, and I believe that is the root of the mild eating and sleeping disorders he has developed. They won’t be hard to get rid of, but the most important thing is to find the source of mental stress and eliminate it before it’s too late and the disorders worsen. He’ll be kept in for a week so we can monitor his condition and make sure he becomes healthy enough.”
He looked at all of them with piercing stares. Junsu felt especially uneasy.
“What intrigues me, however, is how the four of you and your manager had managed to ignore him so long for it to be brought into such a condition. Typically it’s domestic abuse victims I see that are reduced to such a pathetic state. Was there a fall-out of some sort?”
He swallowed and shifted uneasily, feeling as if a large, glowing neon arrow was hovering over his head with a sign labeled ‘Problem’. Muttering a quick excuse, he slipped out of the suffocating atmosphere and started his way towards Yoochun’s room, leaving the rest of the doctor’s words to his members.
Junsu lifted a hand and slowly caressed the other’s face, for the first time marveling over how smooth and soft his skin was. For the longest time it was caked under heavy layers of makeup to hide the circles under his eyes and how thin he had become. Hopefully that would all change, soon.
“I’m sorry, Yoochun…” he whispered. “Sorry for… everything. I should have noticed something was going on a long time ago… I’m such a horrible friend, aren’t I?” His hand trailed gently down to rest at Yoochun’s chest and felt a fluttering, weak heart beat underneath. “Please… wake up soon… Let’s pretend this never happened and let things return to normal.”
But Yoochun did not wake up, not for a long time.
~*~
His body was functioning, but his mind was still shut down, the doctor had said. It was purely mental; if the patient refused to wake up and face reality again, then the only thing anyone could do was to offer positivity to them and attempt to bring them out from whatever trauma that kept them from waking. Cases like such were not too rare, but usually were caused by some source of heavy emotional damage.
Junsu had shivered under the accusatory gaze - or was it his imagination? - and took refuge once more to Yoochun’s room.
Some days he recalled sweet memories from the past, some days he sang, some days he played some of Yoochun’s favorite songs, anything to bring him back. He wasn’t alone in the effort, but he was the only one who accompanied the other every day for hours, holding Yoochun’s hand and sometimes, just quietly looking at the other’s face, mesmerized by the peaceful features, healthier than before, lips and cheeks now colored with a light pink than a sickly pallor. But he was still dangerously thin; IVs could only aid so much.
“Yoochun-ah…” His voice was hoarse from hours of disuse. “When will you wake up? It’s been months, you know… 126 days, I’ve been counting. Some of the upper people have been talking about…” he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, “replacing you. They think you’re not ever going to wake up, and it’s slowing down the group.” Unconsciously his grip tightened on Yoochun’s slender fingers. “You’re coming back, right? … Are you?”
Drops of crystal tears left dark spots on the unblemished snow-white sheets as they slipped past Junsu’s closed eyes. “I miss you. I miss you so much. And I’ve been thinking… about the entire… this… I thought that I only wanted to remain best friends but I’m not so sure anymore. I don’t understand my own feelings, yet what I feel for you is stronger than what I felt for all the girls in the past…” He paused. “I know that I’m going to Hell for this, but I want to give it a shot. Being in a relationship. You and I.”
It was getting late. There was still a dance practice early next morning despite Yoochun’s state, and he could feel the fatigue wearing away at him. Junsu got up and smoothed the blankets again, adjusting the flower vase by the bedside, making a mental note to change the wilting chrysanthemums into something else before the rotting perfume lingered too long and became adverse to the health.
“Please wake up, for me? Because I think … I’m in love with you.”
And just as he was about to turn away, the heart monitor’s steady beeping began to quicken from its slow resting pace, and the familiar, rich-timbre voice he longed for the past few months reached his ears.
Yoochun’s eyes flickered and opened, glassy orbs now filled with life as his lips formed, “Junsu…”
(Author’s Note: … I don’t like the writing at all… nor the plot… this thing has been sitting in my computer for many, many months until I finally remembered it and decided to post it. It was back when I was still convinced Junsu was a cute, perfect, innocent little Christian boy, which led to the possibility of being homophobic and conservative. Then Intoxication came along and the image went down the drain. It’s also too long so I got lazy and didn’t want to revise it, either… Nonetheless, hope you guys enjoyed it. ^______^ Maybe leave a comment, to show some love?)
Summary: Yoochun attempts to deal with his unrequited one-sided love; Junsu can't get past his homophobia.
Pairing: Yoosu
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance
Warning: depression, heavy drinking
Disclaimer: Don't own the boys. Won't ever.
Yoochun never noticed the steady decline of his own physical and mental health until he reached the bottom of the abyss and truly realized the horribly unhealthy state he was in.
He never ate as much as he usually did, never slept as much as he usually did, but he passed those signs off as normal; he just lacked any appetite, and he had strange sleeping habits anyways. Yes, he did smoke and drink, but the amount had gradually increased, a miniscule change every day until he realized all the packets of cigarettes he had horded were gone faster than he would have thought, and the emptiness where mass bottles of soju were stocked mocking him. The reflection in the mirror showed a starved man with heavy bags under his eyes looking drained and exhausted, skin stretched tight over his face and cheeks beginning to hollow, ribs showing clearly through. Maybe this was why the makeup slathered became thicker, his clothes several sizes larger than his small frame, no longer showing off as much skin as the other members.
But more often than not, he ignored all these pressing signs of his abused body and concentrated on his emotional turmoil, which turned to all the smoking, alcohol, and reckless behavior he exhibited far more frequently than before.
Love hurt. A lot. So much that it felt as if someone stabbed him in the abdomen and twisted the knife, then pulled it out and continuously plunged his body over and over again until he was a bloody mess, his life liquid pouring out his body rapidly and then using acid, cauterizing his wounds before he bled to death so he was stuck not-quite-dead but fervently wishing he could die.
Maybe it was even more painful. He didn’t know how to measure it and only knew that his sanity was already teetering on the edge. Sooner or later, he was going to snap.
After so many years of repression and denial, the one person Yoochun could not fall in love with had completely taken possession of his heart no matter how hard he tried to suppress the feelings. It was frustrating, whenever a single whisper, a single touch, a single smile would send his heart fluttering erratically, his breath quickening to the brink of breaking into an asthma attack, fantasizing things that were definitely not morally acceptable, especially not to him.
Kim Junsu
.
He was Yoochun’s precious member of DBSK, and that fact was already an invisible boundary between them, a fine sheet of glass he knew he could break but at the cost of numerous painful, bleeding wounds on both sides. He also knew that Junsu was a devout Christian like Yoochun was… but the type that condemned homosexuality and had a difficult time accepting the erroneous existence of people who loved others of the same gender. Some nights he would overhear Junsu kneeling on his bed, head bowed and hands clasped to pray for what he called “sinners” to rediscover “light”.
Maybe Yoochun should have felt disgusted or insulted by the other’s obvious show of homophobia right in front of three very gay members, but he only felt heavy disappointment and pain weighing in his heart, knowing that Junsu’s religious tendencies only set an even larger, unbreakable barrier between the two. It was no longer glass but thick impenetrable iron, permanently blocking him from the younger. For the better, Yoochun’s pessimistic mind would supplement sometimes. It was better that the younger stayed away from him, a clear sinner who indulged in drinking, smoking, and occasionally picked up scantily-clad girls from certain massage bars spread in particular locations of the city to vent his sexual frustration, stumbling back some nights carrying the scent of a disgusting mix of cheap alcohol, cigarettes, and sex. From out of the corner of his eye, his intoxicated mind made out a quick flash of disapproval and sadness on Junsu’s face before he wordless helped him into the shower, washing gently away all the traces of taint on his skin before leading him to his bed. In comparison, Junsu was a virtuous and pure angel who shouldn’t even touch Yoochun, whose sexual orientation had already landed him a firm place in the fiery depths of Hell, much less show so much care to him.
The baritone rapper still clearly remembered the day when Junsu accidentally discovered the legitimacy of YunJae and had charged to where Yoochun was busy composing songs, looking frazzled and horrified as he frantically wringed his hands. “Hyung! I just... I just saw…” He was trembling, eyes wide open in terror as he collapsed beside the other, looking more troubled than Yoochun had ever seen him.
Eyeing the desperate way the younger clenched his treasured cross, he had a feeling he knew what was wrong. If that was Junsu’s reaction to Yunho and Jaejoong, then what would he say if he found out another gay man had loved him? Not just any gay man, but the very person he would confide his deepest worries and fears from his heart without a second thought? Yoochun didn’t want to imagine.
He waited patiently until the other’s fearful panting gradually became normal again. “I see you finally found out,” Yoochun finally said in a conversational tone, eyes focused but not seeing on his messily scribbled lyrics as he absent-mindedly twirled his fountain pen between calloused fingers.
“You knew, Yoochun… and you didn’t tell me...”
Yoochun tried to ignore the accusing stare and the words laced thick with betrayal as he penned in another sentence on his wrinkled paper. “There was never a good time.” He didn’t want Junsu to be hurt, he added silently in his head, he didn’t want the angel Su to know about Yunho and Jaejoong’s affairs, immoral and revolting in the younger’s eyes. It was better for him to be shielded before his innocent image of two men he looked up to were permanently corrupted.
“Why?” Junsu whispered, eyes trained on the fan spinning lazily above head. “Why are they doing this? Why?”
The simplest, three-lettered word held so much meaning and significance that had Yoochun’s heart breaking once more into millions of tiny glass shards that pierced deeply into him in a way only Junsu could achieve. His pale hand shook, the fountain pen dropping out of his firm grasp with a loud thud and rolled away under the table. “It’s love,” he said simply, dragging himself out of the wooden chair and bent under the table, hand scoping the wooden floor in search for his writing tool before finally finding it tucked away in a small corner.
“But they’re both men! They could perfectly find beautiful girlfriends,” Junsu protested weakly, helping Yoochun up.
The baritone’s fingers tingled from the warm touch of the younger, feeling the beginning of fluttering butterflies in his stomach again. “Does it matter? Junsu-ah, love is love.”
“But-but…” words faltered on Junsu’s lips, desire flaring through Yoochun as he stared at those oh-so-kissable lips, wishing he could clear the distance with a few simple steps and claim them as his. His hands clenched into fists, threatening to break the pen’s thin form.
Yoochun sighed wearily and rubbed his temples, all the built up stress suddenly flooding open. “Su…” he began tiredly, breaking his eye contact away from those lips before the temptation was too great and settled back onto his work, “they’re still your hyungs. They’re still human beings. Nothing has changed about them except their love for each other. Is that really too hard to understand?”
The room lapsed into silence, filled only by the rustling of paper as Junsu quietly contemplated his words. At last he said, “How are you okay with it? We share the same faith, don’t we?”
Because I’m in the same situation, he wanted to say. But instead he said, “I grew to understand it. Love is love. It shouldn’t be oppressed.” He nearly snorted at the cruel irony of his words; if he listened to his own advice, he was willing to bet all his earnings that it would send Junsu running out of the room and pretend Yoochun didn’t exist.
“… I guess,” the younger reluctantly admitted. Suddenly, he sprang up and pounced on Yoochun, wrapping his arms tightly around him into a large embrace. Burying his face in the warmth of the other’s wool sweater, he said, “Thanks.” Yoochun’s stunned body eventually reacted to the abrupt show of affection, bringing his own arms up to return the affectionate hug and swallowed nervously as his mind began to wander into territories he shouldn’t be breaching.
Even after Junsu had left, Yoochun found himself curling tightly into a ball as he hugged himself, wishing desperately to keep the residue warmth and scent of Junsu’s body as he stared longingly at the door left slightly ajar. His keen ears picked up the two eldest’s voices, apologetic and ashamed, interweaving with Junsu’s unusually solemn one to create a harmony of reconciliation and hesitant acceptance. But Yoochun knew that later in the day, the younger would be praying for their hyungs’ wellbeing and naïve hope that they would find female life partners in the future, pretending that this was all simply a short phase and would pass one day. The baritone wondered just how long it would take before Junsu would come to the realization that things would likely perpetually remain the way they were, and that Yunho and Jaejoong might never even fleetingly consider another person for as long as they lived.
Present day Yoochun sighed as his thoughts inevitably focused once more on Junsu and rolled over, shoving his blankets off to the side and got up quietly. The sky had fully darkened a long time ago, and all the members were asleep (possibly with the exception of Changmin, but no one ever knew when the maknae would wake up to rifle through the kitchen for midnight snacks. He was hoping his timing would be lucky enough), he stealthily crept out their shared bedroom, casting a glance at their youngest’s bed, unsure whether the confusing lump of blankets and pillows hosted Changmin, or if it was simply just a clump and the other was lurking in the kitchen. Tip-toeing out the door, he let out a muted sigh of relief as the kitchen was empty. His vision, now fully adjusted to the moonlight, quickly zeroed in on the refrigerator, cautiously extracting a bottle of soju. After a moment of contemplation, he withdrew another two and retreated onto the couch, opening a glass bottle and drinking straight from it.
He closed his eyes contently, feeling the familiar burn of the strong drink flow down his throat in a fiery trail, instantly warming his body. Taking a few more generous gulps, he felt as if he was pleasantly enwrapped in a thick cocoon of warmth, courtesy of the alcohol coursing through his veins. His mind was gradually becoming sluggish and hazy, his movements steadily more clumsy as he popped open the second and downed its entire contents, empty glass bottle clattering loudly onto the floor as his grip slackened. “Stupid Junsu,” he muttered darkly under his breath, “all his stupid fault.” Unconsciously he opened the last bottle and gulped, some of the soju dribbling out of the corner of his mouth from his sloppy act. Inelegantly wiping the sticky liquid away with the sleeve of his pajama, he sighed and got up, stumbling to the refrigerator to retrieve more.
“Stupid Junsu,” he repeated again, his mind a whirl of emotions and chaos as he tried to discern the strange, bubbly happiness from the alcohol and the angst and depression that threatened to pour out. He blinked in surprise, raising a shaking hand to touch his cheek where he felt a drop of wetness slowly etch a trail on his skin, his eyes welled with more salty tears that continuously spilled forth and before he knew it, his breath had become irregular and he was hiccupping, biting vainly onto his arm to stop as his thin frame shook with heavy sobs. Somewhere in between the midst of crying, he finished the third and had gone through a fourth, even a fifth as his judgment was long tossed out the window and shattered into pieces, still hysterically crying and muttering slurred insults mixed with other strange things his incoherent mind had cooked up.
It was all Junsu’s fault for causing him so much pain, so much of the stabbing, burning, inexplicable indescribable pain in his heart that raged on despite all the soju he had foolishly consumed. Even the severe amount of alcohol could not waive the sorrow that gripped him. He only felt despair, the realization that the probable love of his life was never going to look at him the same way he did, only obliviously believing everything was simply close friendship and fanservice, at most. Goddamn it. Even all the random girls he had been with, the nondescript, faceless, nameless females he played around with briefly never ignited this sort of fierce passion, not even his first crush so many years ago.
“Why did I fall in love with you? Hahahaha,” Yoochun laughed drunkenly and wiped his eyes with soaked-wet sleeves, humming the first few bars of his odd harmony. “God, I feel like that guy. Hahaha.” He hiccupped inelegantly, the splitting sound of another glass bottle crashing onto the floor deaf to his ears. If he was more attentive, perhaps he would have also noticed the slight creak of the door to their shared bedroom, a face poking out, eyes groggy with sleep.
The dark almond-colored eyes instantly cleared, however, when he caught sight of his band mate sprawled gracelessly on the couch as he tightly clutched a pillow with tell-tale empty bottles littered around him, alternating oddly between crying, laughing, cursing, and humming unfamiliar melodies. The young male’s thirst promptly forgotten, he rushed to Yoochun and forcefully tugged him into a proper sitting position, wincing as the other only fell right back onto his shoulder and became a dead weight. He shifted slightly so the older was resting comfortably on his chest instead.
“I fucking hate dolphins,” Yoochun mumbled, sniffling.
The other wrinkled his nose at the offending odor of alcohol but raised an eyebrow in confusion. Didn’t Yoochun love dolphins? Clearing away the bottles the best he could with his hands full of the older, he snatched a tissue and delicately wiped the other’s eyes and cheeks, all damp from the ceaseless crying. Absent-mindedly, he ran a gently hand through Yoochun’s soft hair as the other’s sobs slowly ceded to hiccups, his breathing beginning to become regular again, and tears no longer flowed.
But it was at that moment that the other snapped out of his drunken haze and realized a certain someone had been cuddling and petting him lovingly; thus his mind defaulted to defensive mode and roughly shoved the offender away, out of his warm embrace. “Go away!” he snapped and backpedalled awkwardly to the edge of the sofa, words slurring together as he eyed Junsu’s stunned form suspiciously as if Junsu was about to take advantage of him, which in his mind, he was. Mercilessly playing with his heart again.
“Huh?” The “dolphin” finally reacted and blinked in shock as Yoochun began to cry again, tears spilling forth but he made no effort to wipe them. “Hey, I only want to help,” he said soothingly, sidling next to Yoochun, who jumped up and away from his grasp. “Seriously, what’s going on?”
“You!” The baritone rapper pointed an accusing finger at him. “I fucking hate you!”
The hurtful statement only further muddled Junsu’s mind as he stared at the other, who was still clinging on the tear-soaked cushion. “What’s going on, Yoochun?” he repeated in bewilderment, walking over. “I don’t understand. Please explain to me.”
Yoochun attempted to thrash out and struggle as Junsu wrapped his strong arms around his form. Curse all the other’s working out and his own laziness! Wriggling in Junsu’s tight hold, he was bodily carried back and plopped onto the couch once more. He curled himself into a small ball, muffling his cries in the cushion and tried to ignore the comforting hand rubbing relaxingly up and down his back. “I’m so sick of you,” he finally said, refusing to meet the other’s eyes. “I’m so sick of everything about you that I never want to see you again.”
Hearing those sharp words, Junsu felt as if his heart just broke, pierced in half by an arrow. His best friend had just proclaimed he hated him and never wanted to see him again, and Junsu simply could not make out a proper reason behind the uncalled detestation. “… Why? Why, Yoochun-ah?”
Drawing a deep, rattling breath, Yoochun replied, “You’ll never understand me.” He buried his face in the cushion and hiccupped once, not wanting to see the other’s wounded expression.
“… I see what this is about now,” Junsu said, his tone unusually bitter, his heart unusually jealous of their lead singer. Now he understood. “I know I’ll never be like Jaejoong-hyung. I know I won’t ever understand every bit of you like he does. But give me a chance, at least, to take back whatever I did.”
“Give you a chance?” Yoochun repeated? He threw back his head and laughed, a hollow and insane sound. “That’s so rich, coming from you. I gave you a thousand chances, even now, and you were always too blind to see. You’re still too blind to see.” He tossed the cushion harshly at Junsu, whose shell-shocked form was too frozen to dodge the flying object, and stood up.
“You know what,” he sighed, voice more even than previously, “Please, just forget tonight. Forget everything I said. Forget all of this” - he gestured wildly to the mess - “This never happened.” Stumbling out of the living room with a hand trailing along the wall, he disappeared behind his studio as the door slammed shut in an ominous finality.
Yoochun fell onto his knees the minute he heard the door close, breaking out into fresh sobs all over again as he clawed at his shirt in frustration. What was he saying? What was he doing? The alcohol was ruining his conscience, made him say stupid things to Junsu and broke his heart. But it was better that he and Junsu stayed away from each other, before anything worse transpired between each other, before he lost his sanity.
He still could not forget the embrace that gave him a sense of security he had never experienced before, the delicate hands drying his tear-stained face, and the comforting rubbing of his back.
Why did he have to love his own gender?
Why did he have to fall in love with Junsu, of all men in the world?
Why?
Curling into a small ball once more, he cried and never felt so pathetic, so miserable, and so in pain.
~*~
Junsu sat there dumbfounded as he stared blankly at the studio door even though Yoochun had long disappeared behind it, distinct, broken sobs escaping through the wood and into Junsu’s ears. All of the older’s words still continued to ring in his head, repeating themselves in an unending pattern of confusion and hurt.
I hate you. I’m so sick of you. I don’t ever want to see you again. You’ll never understand me. I have you a thousand chances, but you were too blind to see.
You’re still too blind to see.
Please, just forget tonight. Forget everything I said.
Every word stabbed him deeply, his mind still too numb to process everything that had occurred in such a short span of time. Just what had he done to lose his best friend like that? What did he do to hurt Yoochun so acutely he no longer wanted to have anything to do with him?
He just couldn’t come up with a clear conclusion on the matter, no matter how hard he tried.
His mind was simply blank, and the lead singer barely registered the noise of another door opening, the numerous footsteps of his other members emerging sleepily from their room and into the mess. Perhaps, not so sleepily as he took a closer look and was mildly surprised. The eldest, Jaejoong, wore an expression of a strange mix of exasperation, disappointment, and worry, eyes darting over to Yoochun’s locked room. Yunho laid a placating hand on his shoulder, a small frown gracing his features, while Changmin outright glared at Junsu with enough dark intensity to make the other flinch and look away.
Someone flicked on the lights; Junsu wasn’t sure because he was too busy trying to keep eye contact with Changmin, who was almost emitting a dark aura that threatened to swallow him whole. “… What’s going on?” he finally asked, feeling as if the rest of the members all seemed to know something that he didn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time, but this time it deeply involved both him and Yoochun.
Jaejoong shot him a look with that strange mix of emotions Junsu simply didn’t understand and took off quickly to where their most sensitive member was hiding, slipping behind the door with cat-like grace and closing it noiselessly behind him. This left the sleep-deprived Yunho and a malicious Changmin to plop down on the couch and join him at both sides, sandwiching him uncomfortably. He slid towards the elder of the two, deciding that it was a much safer bet than the younger, whose displeasure continued to pour out of him.
“You’re an idiot, hyung,” Changmin declared, innocently stretching his feet and they strayed right on top of Junsu’s, pressing down so hard he let out a small squeak of pain.
The leader sighed deeply as he glared disapprovingly at the youngest whilst ruffling Junsu’s mussed-up hair with father-like affection. “Ignore Changmin, he isn’t making much sense.” His hand inched towards the maknae and tugged sharply at his ear, causing him to exclaim loudly in pain as well. “Junsu-ah, I’m going to ask you a serious question.”
It was times like these that accentuated Yunho’s fatherly tendencies, and Junsu could not help but be oddly pressured as if his own father was addressing him in such fashion. “O-okay.”
“How disturbed are you by Jaejoong and my relationship?”
Junsu’s face immediately reddened, not expecting such a question to be asked. It was one thing to secretly disapprove of their relationship in his mind, but completely different to outright proclaim his inner opinion. It was completely rude and disrespectful to his hyungdul, who were evidently smitten by each other. “Umm… I… I mean… that is… umm-” he stammered disjointedly.
“That’s the problem,” Yunho cut him off, knowing that the lead singer wouldn’t be able to form coherent sentences. “Your homophobia.”
“What has that got to do with anything?” Junsu’s blush deepened, and he yelped again as Changmin brought his feet down and smashed right into his abused ones.
“Changmin,” Yunho said warningly.
“You’re such an idiot, hyung,” the maknae huffed exasperatedly, crossing his arms. “You can’t be this blind can you? Oh wait, you are.”
“Hey!” Junsu punched the other in the shoulder, but not with his usual vigor. Turning back to their leader, he said, “I still don’t quite understand.”
“Oh my god, Junsu! Yoochun’s in-” the rest of his words were left garbled as Yunho abruptly pounced on him, pinning him onto the couch with a hand muffling him and the other holding his flailing arms. Only after Changmin completely stilled did he let go. Glaring with more intensity than before, he turned back towards Junsu.
“Yoochun just needs to come to terms with some… unsolved feelings… he’s very confused with right now. It’s better for him to say, because the rest of us really have no right to say anything about it.” He aimed a strong kick at the maknae, who had opened his mouth to say something. “However though, be gentle with him no matter what happens. He’s fragile and shattered enough as it is. Promise me that, Junsu-ah.”
The other nodded numbly, still not comprehending fully. Unsolved feelings? Yoochun’s fragile? Be gentle? Huh? And what was Changmin about to say? Yoochun’s in depression, in distress, in pain? None of those words fitted properly; there was one that lingered in his mind and taunted him, but he refused to acknowledge the option. In his mind, it simply wasn’t possible, not even in the slightest. Casanova Yoochun, who flirted with any girl he passed, who positively oozed grease and cheesiness, who picked up random women off the streets and in bars deep in the night to vent off his sexual frustration. No, he had to be thinking too much.
“Well, does this… thing… have to do with his health right now?” Junsu may be slow, but he wasn’t completely blind to their member’s rapidly deteriorating situation. Everyone had noticed how Yoochun was delving into numerous unhealthy habits that were showing harshly through; there was only so much you could do to hide it, and in Yoochun’s lost state he hadn’t even bothered to do anything about the blatantly damaging life style he had suddenly adapted.
As soon as he brought up the topic, there was an instant dark cloud gloom that hovered over the trio at the reminder of the baritone’s condition. Every time they approached him, it was as if he didn’t even notice the hole he got that only got deeper, or he pretended to be clueless. Their manager had even proposed to bring Yoochun to the therapist if it continued, only to be fiercely fended off by all of them. He just needed more time.
That’s what they hoped, anyways.
Yunho finally took the initiative to answer. “… I believe so…”
They lapsed into depressing silence
“Anyhow, back to bed. Even though we have no schedule tomorrow, staying up like this is unhealthy,” the leader said strictly, lightly prodding the younger two off the couch and guiding them back to the bedroom like sheep. “Come on now.” As soon as the two climbed into bed and was situated comfortably, he switched off the lights and left the room, shutting the door quietly to what Junsu presumed to be the room where their band ‘mother’ must be comforting Yoochun at this moment.
He rolled around uneasily, finding it strangely difficult to shut down his whirling mind, a chaotic mess of disconnected thoughts that haunted him. Judging from the other occupant’s breathing, Changmin was very much awake as well, not even making an effort to pretend to be asleep. It wasn’t until much later, when three sets of footsteps timidly tip-toed back in, finding their beds with practiced ease, did Junsu feel fatigue at last. Focusing on their individual breathing patterns, he eventually fell into a fitful slumber, a distinctive hiccup and irregular breath bothering him even when he drifted off.
Yoochun… was he still crying?
~*~
Yoochun bolted upright from the bed, woken up by extreme discomfort. His stomach was churning nonstop and waves of nausea consumed his senses, the bile hovering at the back of his throat. Clamping a hand over his mouth, he scrambled off the bed and darted towards the direction of the bathroom, lifting up the toilet cover and promptly emptied out his stomach’s contents… he thought. As he leaned back after he finished and clumsily wiped away bits of undigested material at the corners of his mouth, he felt another wave overtake him and bent over the toilet again, puking noisily into there.
This was his body’s way of expelling all the excess alcohol, along with the splitting headache he was currently experiencing. But knowing that fact only made him feel even more horrible on the inside as he mentally berated himself for completely losing it last night, saying unwanted things and doing unwanted things that left a huge mess in their household only he could fix. The catch was, he didn’t. If only he could magically erase yesterday night’s events, then everything would be alright. Being the best actor of the group, he could pretend nothing had changed between him and Junsu and ignore his bleeding heart in hopes that he would move on… some day.
A very far away some day it was.
He soon became acutely aware of soft hands brushing his hair back away from the watery mess he was still depositing into the toilet bowl, a low murmur of comfort over the gross hacking. When he finished at last, his throat was on fire and he tasted the distinct tang of blood at the back of his mouth. The same pale hands let go of his hair and reached over to flush, then took a tissue and wiped his mouth with care, whispering more words of comfort to his eager ears. He was pulled into a warm, familiar embrace and accepted a glass of water gracefully, downing most of its contents in one go. “Thanks, Jaejoong,” he rasped hoarsely, severe fatigue from all the puking and lack of sleep adding on to the raging headache that only impossibly increased.
“You alright now?” Jaejoong asked softly, handing him a tablet of painkillers as if reading his mind.
Popping the pills in and swallowing them dry, he said, “Yeah… much better.”
“You shouldn’t have drunk so much last night. You know you couldn’t handle it,” the other berated sternly, but with a hint of worry set in the firmness.
Yoochun closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I know… but I didn’t know what I was thinking last night. Sorry.”
One simple word was enough to convey so many different meanings. He was sorry for drinking so much, sorry for making a mess, sorry for disturbing everyone’s sleep, sorry for disrupting his relationship with Junsu, and all of that he knew Jaejoong would understand intimately, being the one who understood all of his heart.
The lead singer sighed wearily. “Love makes people do things… remember when Yunho and I weren’t together yet?” He chuckled at the humorous memories of all the ridiculous things he had done and was easily coerced into doing by Yoochun and later, Changmin.
Yoochun smiled slightly as he recalled a failed attempt Jaejoong had pulled to seduce the then very straight Yunho; to no one’s surprise their “clever” plan had completely collapsed and backfired on all of them. It was many weeks later when awkward ice between the two eldest members was finally broken, thanks to the ever so sunny but clueless Junsu.
… Junsu…
The smile dropped as quickly as it came. “What am I going to do? I feel as if I’m steadily… dying… not just my emotional state, but my body, too. Half the time, I don’t even know what’s going on.”
Jaejoong regarded him with troubled eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Don’t you know what you’ve been doing to yourself these past weeks?”
Yoochun tilted his head to a side in confusion. “… No?”
For a moment, it looked like the other was about to punch him in the face before he regained control. “You’ve barely slept, barely ate, barely did anything, barely smiled, barely talked, barely paid attention to our schedule and activities, smoked double of what you used to, drank double of what you used to, disappeared off every other night and came home smelling like alcohol and sex.” He paused for a breath in midst of his rant. “Yoochun-ah, you’ve been nothing but a ghost this whole time, and we’re all very, very worried. You wouldn’t even talk to me anymore.”
The younger’s eyes widened in shock. He… had done all that? Part of his consciousness acknowledged it evenly, which horrified him even more; he had lost himself so deeply in heartache that everything else had been tossed away and abandoned. “I never noticed…” he said in a whisper.
Jaejoong clenched and unclenched his fists. “We’re all worried, you know. It’s time you’ve stopped this, before it’s too late. Before you really become sick and get yourself landed in the hospital. Please.”
But Junsu… Yoochun’s thoughts continuously jumped back onto his person of interest. He just couldn’t stop thinking about the man 24/7, as obsessive as it became.
As if reading his mind once more, the other said, “Either you try to move on, which isn’t working, or you confess.” But he knew that the odds of the latter working were infinitesimal. If anything, it would only worsen the situation, and DBSK may very well fall apart from the inner mayhem.
“You know as well as anyone why confessing isn’t going to work.” This conversation was clearly going in circles. Yoochun point-blank refused to consider the possible of confessing his love even fleetingly; it would not lead to any good, not when Junsu was so adamantly against homosexuality.
“This can’t continue though,” Jaejoong snapped, harsher than he had meant to. His tone softened immediately when the younger visibly flinched. “I know it’s hard, but you’re going to fall apart like this and you know it. It’s only a matter of time. Just please, be selfish for once. Don’t care about the consequences. Junsu would come to understand it eventually.”
Yoochun laughed hollowly. “Eventually,” he repeated flatly. “Eventually. It’s just going to cause a rift. My heart tells me I can’t stop loving Junsu, but I’m never going to confess. I don’t want to ruin what I have with him. The simple friendship we have right now is enough for me.” Besides, he thought morbidly for the umpteenth time, it was better for Junsu to stay away from him, a sinful existence in comparison with the other’s humane perfection.
Seconds after the words left his mouth, they both heard a door slam sharply behind them and jumped at the abrupt sound.
Jaejoong instantaneously leapt to his feet and peeked his head out, only to draw back shakily, face paler than normal as he said, “… I think Junsu heard us…”
Everything came crashing down then as panic flooded Yoochun senses, and he found himself unable to form proper words, disjointed thoughts flashing through his head.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Junsu heard him. It was over.
No…
His breaths transformed into quick gasps, finding it strangely more and more difficult to pull in oxygen by the second, a heavy, suffocating tightness in his chest that wouldn’t relent no matter how hard he tried to breathe. There was just not enough air. The walls and windows were closing in on him, trapping him in to choke him to death as he curled his body into a ball, hoping somehow, the tension could be released.
It wasn’t working.
His panicked state only worsened his hyperventilation as his disoriented mind registered that he was having an asthma attack, a very bad one. Fingers fumbled around his pockets, searching frantically for his inhaler and found none. They were empty.
Ohgodhewasgoingtodie
Yoochun distantly heard chaos of objects shattering as they were thrown out onto the floor while Jaejoong rummaged the bathroom cabinets in a frenzied state. “Where the hell is it?!” the older seethed in frustration. Seeing his best friend in a chalky ghostly white shade, curled on the floor, immobilized and unable to breath, obviously dying and he couldn’t find the damn inhaler. A small compact mirror shattered in his tight grip, tiny glass shards imbedding themselves as they broke skin and cut into flesh, but he didn’t feel the stinging pain and hot droplets of blood spilling.
Dashing out the room and leaving the destroyed bathroom as if a tornado had just ripped through, he screamed, “Call the ambulance! Yoochun’s dying!”
The words echoed emptily in Yoochun’s mind as he felt himself gradually slipping away, unable to focus clearly on the situation anymore, his mind murky with darkness crawling around the edges of his vision, swallowing it whole, and he was gone, slipping sideways onto the cold tiled floor and did not move. He gave in.
~*~
Junsu stirred uneasily in his sleep and pulled the covers stubbornly muffling his face and cutting off fresh air, swinging his legs over onto the floor and left his bed a rumpled mess. His mind felt so exhausted he could fall over and be asleep, but at the same time so strangely exhausted he just ended up curled in the warm sheets staring blankly at nothing until he finally gave up on the entire affair and decided to freshen up before everyone else. Just as he was about to stealthy creep towards the bathroom the best he could in his slow state, he heard noises issuing out the bathroom door and abruptly halted as he deciphered the two voices as Yoochun and Jaejoong.
A bubble of jealousy rose, and he was filled with sudden desire to push open the door and demand what they were doing, preferably followed up by bodily dragging out and replacing the elder by Yoochun’s side and comfort him. Surprised by his strange and violent thought, he settled for leaning against the door and eavesdropping. Typically he would let them have their own space, but he had the nagging feeling that this private conversation most likely dealt with the confusion from last night.
“We’re all worried, you know. It’s time you’ve stopped this, before it’s too late. Before you really become sick and get yourself landed in the hospital. Please…” Jaejoong’s muffled words drifted through, and Junsu found himself mentally nodding vigorously in agreement. Yoochun was definitely not going to last very long in his sickened state, and everyone hoped fervently he was going to snap out of it as soon as possible.
He scooted closer to the door, straining for the answer, only to hear Jaejoong speak after a moment of silence. “Either you try to move on, which isn’t working, or you confess.”
Confess?
Junsu’s stomach dropped as his mind became horrified. Confess to… him? Did Yoochun…
No.
Maybe Yoochun liked another girl that he was involved with, but when he wracked his brain he couldn’t remember the last girl he dated that Yoochun showed any interest in, or met personally for the matter. Or maybe it was just a female friend he had that he was particularly close to, but those friends were almost all just as close to Yoochun as to him.
It was impossible for Yoochun to love him though. Men simply didn’t love other men; people shouldn’t like their own genders. It was completely and utterly wrong to do so, and the Bible clearly stated that “a man shall not lay with a man as he lays with a woman”, Leviticus 20:13. He remembered that verse, and all other verses that forbade homosexuality as he had sought refuge in the holy book upon finding out about Jaejoong and Yunho’s relationship. At night before he went to sleep, he would recite them in his head and reiterate to himself that hopefully the two will realize what they were doing was sinful and move on to beautiful, talented girls that suited them.
Besides, Yoochun didn’t like guys. Sure, he made casual jokes every now and then about fancying another man, but who didn’t do that? It was all in fun spirits, Junsu was confident. It had to be.
“You know as well as anyone why confessing isn’t going to work.” Yoochun finally spoke.
His strong wall of denial was crumbling, just barely.
“This can’t continue though.” Jaejoong sounded very distressed as he uttered the words, and Junsu could just imagine his hyung’s fierce and aggravated expression as he tried to force sense into a despairing Yoochun. Then the eldest continued with heart stopping words. “I know it’s hard, but you’re going to fall apart like this and you know it. It’s only a matter of time. Just please, be selfish for once. Don’t care about the consequences. Junsu would come to understand it eventually.”
His name was mentioned…
Did that mean…?
He felt dazed, overwhelmed, terrified, and a whole whirlwind of emotions as he fidgeted impatiently and fearfully for the other’s reply.
It wasn’t really what he thought, was it? God, please don’t let it be.
“Eventually… eventually… It’s just going to cause a rift. My heart tells me I can’t stop loving Junsu, but I’m never going to confess. I don’t want to ruin what I have with him. The simple friendship we have right now is enough for me.”
Yoochun had not even finished speaking when a wave of disgust overtook Junsu, and bile rose to his throat. He clamped his hands over his mouth before the burning liquid spewed forth into their room and fought to keep it down, but the entire situation was wholly absurd and so wrong. He broke into a panicked run out of the bedroom and slammed the door roughly, proceeding to throw on a jacket, slipping on his running shoes, bolting down the hallway, down the stairs, and outside where fresh, chilled air of early morning was plentiful and cleansing, and he took several lungful gulps of liberating oxygen before breaking into a brisk jog down the back road behind their dormitory.
This couldn’t be happening.
Yoochun loved him.
Yoochun.
His band mate. His best friend. His brother.
Then all the teasing, all the touches, all the words, all the laughter, all the fanservice… Everything had taken on a dark double meaning that shone through the presumed coat of friendliness to reveal plain, undisguised shows of loving affection that he was too blind to see for all too long. These acts, he should have realized their true intentions a long time ago and pushed the other firmly back before it was too late.
It was wrong on so many levels, breached so many taboos of the society that it made him dry heave several times when crushing disgust flooded through him again. There were too many problems he could list off to why the relationship would not work in any way. Yoochun should have known better, should have fallen in love with a woman like him that suited his tastes however vague they were, should have realized that his feelings were sinful and being Christian was even more of a reason to not to fall in love.
No, this emotion wasn’t love. Love did not exist between the same gender. It had to be admiration or brotherly affection confused for romantic love shared only between a man and woman.
He just couldn’t fathom the other’s feelings.
Maybe, he thought ludicrously, he could find a woman that acted and looked like him and introduce her to Yoochun, who would hopefully and ideally ditch his feelings for Junsu and transfer them whole-heartedly onto the other person, who would be somewhat of replacement. There were too many flaws in the plan to even consider it though, and he’d feel terribly guilty for that woman for indirectly using her for his own benefit, and Yoochun’s. He wasn’t even going to try and pretend it was all selflessly for the other, because he was still too revolted and appalled by the accidental discover.
Besides… there was another strange jolt of jealousy and possessiveness that briefly took over his mind at the thought of another woman sharing intimate moments with his band mate and being privy to future information that he would not know, surpassing every other relationship the other had. Another woman would surely swallow all the time they shared, and Yoochun, being the doting boyfriend, would selflessly devote all his time until him and Junsu was no more, just like every other friend he had in the past that drifted away as soon as they found a girl. There was an antsy feeling at the back of his conscious that coyly suggested his jealousy came from an even deeper root. Perhaps… mutual feelings? He roughly shoved the poisonous idea away and was once again replaced by the same disturbing facts he was currently plagued with.
Another man liked him! And it was Yoochun, of all people!
The sentences persistently repeated in his head as he began to feel slight exertion from the running, and he raised a hand to wipe away sweat droplets beginning to form on his forehead.
But more importantly, what was he going to do? Obviously he had woken up the entire household with his dramatic door slam, at the same time alerting the two soul-mates of his unwanted presence as they secretly conversed behind his back. He didn’t know how to face all of them, especially Yoochun. How was he going to explain his childish behavior, and how was he going to act around Yoochun? Now that he knew the other loved him… the very idea was still extremely awkward and nauseating. He wanted to have a nice, sustaining relationship with his best friend, but the revelation had irreversibly changed everything between the two of them, and he wasn’t quite sure of what he wanted out of it now anymore. Pretend nothing happened? Accept the other’s feelings and tell him calmly that it will never work? Flat out refuse the other and ignore him until he destroyed his misplaced feelings?
There was also the glaring matter of the fact that Junsu had caused all the physical and emotional damage on Yoochun for the past few months, and the guilt mixed heavily in with his other competing emotions, rising to the top above everything else.
His thoughts frustrated him more and more, until his jogging began to slow down, and he found himself halting to a stop in front of a bench.
Repulsive gay love or not, the more important question was, what should he do? He knew all too well that if he turned down Yoochun, the man would continue to self destruct and eventually waste away and become a shell - no, he was already a shell, but not quite empty. A simple ray of hope drove Yoochun through and through, and if the light disappeared, how would he cope?
Junsu growled in frustrating, aiming his foot at a lone acorn on the street and kicked it. To his chagrin it flew much further than anticipated and landed on a random pedestrian’s head. The stranger halted sharply in surprise and turned around, glaring at the culprit. Blushing tomato red, Junsu promptly apologized and sprinted the other direction, hoping the man did not catch his face too clearly.
“Asia’s biggest star Kim Junsu spotted pelting innocent man with dangerous weapon!” The paparazzi ate everything up and exaggerated matters completely out of proportion, and that certainly was not something he’d like to see in the afternoon online.
In the midst of his turmoil, Yoochun’s drunk, wavering voice began to serenade to him in a horribly off tune rendition of Magic Castle, and it was a few seconds later when he registered that said man was not standing next to him completely wasted; that was, in fact, his phone that had began to ring. Junsu briefly wondered which prankster had changed his ringtone into something so… so wretched and painful to the ears.
The familiar number of Yunho flashed on the smudged screen, and he hastened to pick it up. The leader was surely very worried about his whereabouts now. He must’ve woken everyone up in the middle of his mini-tantrum. “Hello?” he answered breathlessly, not yet fully recovered from the impromptu morning workout.
“Junsu.” The older man’s tone was unusually grave, sending off warning bells in Junsu’s head. “I… well… Yoochun is in the hospital.”
His mind was sluggish from lack of comprehension. Then his heart dropped to his stomach, and the phone nearly slipped through his hand, grip lax in shock
.
“WHAT?!” he shrieked, voice shooting up octaves. “Wait, what happened?”
There was a brush of static, then the snarky tone of the youngest came through. “You happened, hyung.”
“W-what’s that supposed to mean?” Junsu spluttered. Did they…?
“We all heard you this morning. Duh…” Changmin replied, and Junsu could almost see the other rolling his eyes at his apparent denseness. “You’re such an idiot, seriously.”
Another brush of static was heard, causing him to wince.
“Anyways, we need you to come here as soon as possible. We’re at the main hospital in Seoul, and please don’t let anyone see you. We can’t afford having the paparazzi make a big deal out of this and find out what’s going on.” Yunho was back, and Junsu’s heart twisted again at the sound of the other pleading, once again reminded that he was the source of the problem, even if the other did not state anything vaguely accusatory.
“I’ll be on my way right now.”
~*~
It wasn’t until Junsu stepped quietly into the cold hospital room when he realized how truly fragile Yoochun had become, and how much he had neglected.
In the middle of the pale white room, Yoochun’s skin was even paler, stretched over bare flesh and bones, his usual full, chubby cheeks now gaunt and pale, even paler than the snow-white sheets. Collarbones jutted out too sharply, his wrists too thin that Junsu was afraid he’ll snap just by wrapping his hands around them. The full pink lips were colorless, and there were dark circles under his peacefully closed eyes. His black hair lacked its usual luster.
Everywhere Junsu looked was too unhealthy, too thin, too pale, too fragile, so much that he felt tears welling in his eyes at the pitiful sight of his bandmate, so weak he needed to be hooked on machines, pumping nutrients into his body with every drip of the IV, and the mask that provided the oxygen his weak lungs could not pull in by themselves.
Words of the doctor still rang ominously in his head.
“The patient has been heavily malnutritioned the past few months, with a profound lack of proper food and sleep, and too much overworking. With a degree of asthma like his, it’s a wonder he didn’t have an attack any sooner. There are obvious signs of severe mental stress, and I believe that is the root of the mild eating and sleeping disorders he has developed. They won’t be hard to get rid of, but the most important thing is to find the source of mental stress and eliminate it before it’s too late and the disorders worsen. He’ll be kept in for a week so we can monitor his condition and make sure he becomes healthy enough.”
He looked at all of them with piercing stares. Junsu felt especially uneasy.
“What intrigues me, however, is how the four of you and your manager had managed to ignore him so long for it to be brought into such a condition. Typically it’s domestic abuse victims I see that are reduced to such a pathetic state. Was there a fall-out of some sort?”
He swallowed and shifted uneasily, feeling as if a large, glowing neon arrow was hovering over his head with a sign labeled ‘Problem’. Muttering a quick excuse, he slipped out of the suffocating atmosphere and started his way towards Yoochun’s room, leaving the rest of the doctor’s words to his members.
Junsu lifted a hand and slowly caressed the other’s face, for the first time marveling over how smooth and soft his skin was. For the longest time it was caked under heavy layers of makeup to hide the circles under his eyes and how thin he had become. Hopefully that would all change, soon.
“I’m sorry, Yoochun…” he whispered. “Sorry for… everything. I should have noticed something was going on a long time ago… I’m such a horrible friend, aren’t I?” His hand trailed gently down to rest at Yoochun’s chest and felt a fluttering, weak heart beat underneath. “Please… wake up soon… Let’s pretend this never happened and let things return to normal.”
But Yoochun did not wake up, not for a long time.
~*~
His body was functioning, but his mind was still shut down, the doctor had said. It was purely mental; if the patient refused to wake up and face reality again, then the only thing anyone could do was to offer positivity to them and attempt to bring them out from whatever trauma that kept them from waking. Cases like such were not too rare, but usually were caused by some source of heavy emotional damage.
Junsu had shivered under the accusatory gaze - or was it his imagination? - and took refuge once more to Yoochun’s room.
Some days he recalled sweet memories from the past, some days he sang, some days he played some of Yoochun’s favorite songs, anything to bring him back. He wasn’t alone in the effort, but he was the only one who accompanied the other every day for hours, holding Yoochun’s hand and sometimes, just quietly looking at the other’s face, mesmerized by the peaceful features, healthier than before, lips and cheeks now colored with a light pink than a sickly pallor. But he was still dangerously thin; IVs could only aid so much.
“Yoochun-ah…” His voice was hoarse from hours of disuse. “When will you wake up? It’s been months, you know… 126 days, I’ve been counting. Some of the upper people have been talking about…” he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, “replacing you. They think you’re not ever going to wake up, and it’s slowing down the group.” Unconsciously his grip tightened on Yoochun’s slender fingers. “You’re coming back, right? … Are you?”
Drops of crystal tears left dark spots on the unblemished snow-white sheets as they slipped past Junsu’s closed eyes. “I miss you. I miss you so much. And I’ve been thinking… about the entire… this… I thought that I only wanted to remain best friends but I’m not so sure anymore. I don’t understand my own feelings, yet what I feel for you is stronger than what I felt for all the girls in the past…” He paused. “I know that I’m going to Hell for this, but I want to give it a shot. Being in a relationship. You and I.”
It was getting late. There was still a dance practice early next morning despite Yoochun’s state, and he could feel the fatigue wearing away at him. Junsu got up and smoothed the blankets again, adjusting the flower vase by the bedside, making a mental note to change the wilting chrysanthemums into something else before the rotting perfume lingered too long and became adverse to the health.
“Please wake up, for me? Because I think … I’m in love with you.”
And just as he was about to turn away, the heart monitor’s steady beeping began to quicken from its slow resting pace, and the familiar, rich-timbre voice he longed for the past few months reached his ears.
Yoochun’s eyes flickered and opened, glassy orbs now filled with life as his lips formed, “Junsu…”
(Author’s Note: … I don’t like the writing at all… nor the plot… this thing has been sitting in my computer for many, many months until I finally remembered it and decided to post it. It was back when I was still convinced Junsu was a cute, perfect, innocent little Christian boy, which led to the possibility of being homophobic and conservative. Then Intoxication came along and the image went down the drain. It’s also too long so I got lazy and didn’t want to revise it, either… Nonetheless, hope you guys enjoyed it. ^______^ Maybe leave a comment, to show some love?)