Meteors [Chapter 8]
Chapter: 8
Pairings: YooMin
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance, Fluff, slight Angst
Summary:
There is only one truth, Changmin believes, and only one question - is it the one you want?
There is only chance, Yoochun thinks - the meteor crashes, or it doesn’t. And if it does the only question is, will you run fast enough or let the stars collide?
Part 8. Of crosswords and growing up.
“That’s the last one” Junsu announces, unceremoniously dropping a heavy cardboard box at his feet. “But next time someone asks me to help them move places, please remind me to say no.”
“It was just a dozen boxes.”
“And they were like three tons each.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“Of course you wouldn’t know” Junsu scowls, sitting down on the floor and grimacing as he stretches his arms, “all you did was order me around all day.”
“I carried stuff too” Changmin reminds him, rummaging inside a box.
“You picked all the light ones.”
“You mean the fragile ones.”
“My back is broken.”
“Poor old thing you are.”
“Brat.”
“Idiot.”
“Moron.”
“Dimwit.”
“Asshole.”
“Sorry to interrupt” Jungmi’s voice rises out of nowhere and Junsu cranes his head to see Changmin’s girlfriend standing by the door, a floor cloth in her hand and an amused smile on her face, “that was very romantic but I need some help here.”
“Junsu will do it.”
“Changmin will do it.”
“I’m busy right now.”
“I’m resting right now.”
They exchange a look. Changmin’s expression is innocent enough but Junsu has years of experience here. Before he knows it he’ll be on all fours scrubbing the floor of Changmin’s future bedroom in Changmin’s new place with Changmin’s girlfriend telling him to do it again “a little more on the right” and “guys really suck at this”, while Changmin himself will have run away. His only chance is to escape first.
“Someone knows where Yoochun is?” he says out of the blue, jumping to his feet, “I haven’t seen him since you chased him out of the kitchen.”
“He was writing obscenities on the wall” Jungmi deadpans.
“You gave him paint and a brush” Changmin states lightly, “what else could he possibly have done?”
“Well I don’t know… help, maybe” she says stiffly, tensing. Junsu can’t blame her. Personally he found Yoochun’s scribbles hilarious but Jungmi’s parents didn’t think so when they came to give a hand earlier. It doesn’t help that Changmin considers “but it’s Yoochun” a sensible explanation for all the crap the older guy does.
“I’m going to see where he is” Junsu says hastily when he spots Jungmi’s defiant expression and the frown on Changmin’s face. Those two normally get along so well it’s positively disgusting, but when they do argue it’s not pretty. Usually it involves Yoochun.
He’s out of the apartment before any of them can protest and quickly goes down the stairs, ignoring the elevator. The place that Changmin - or rather Jungmi’s parents - found two weeks ago is brand new, entirely renovated. Changmin’s sisters pointed out that it looked a bit impersonal, to which the young couple protested that it was practical along with a dozen arguments to prove their point - from the bus line stopping down the street and going straight to Changmin’s new workplace to the nursery two blocks away for when they’d have children - neat as bullet points. The discussion ended there.
That is, until Yoochun said something along the lines of “all you need now is two kids and couple slippers” and “you can keep the slippers but let me have the kids, they’ll be boring as hell if they grow up with you”. That made Changmin laugh. Jungmi not so much.
Junsu speeds up when he spots Yoochun. Just as he predicted, the other escaped to the backyard behind the building. He’s sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, looking up at the white clouds above, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. There’s that odd air about him that Junsu already noticed before… like it’s not a 26 years old he has in front of him but a teen dressed up in adult clothes.
Junsu comes closer, noticing the butts lining on the ground next to the older man. He counts four.
“Give me one” he asks once he’s close enough, motioning toward Yoochun’s pack of cigarettes.
“I thought you didn’t smoke.”
“I need to wash the smell of bleach off my nose” Junsu sniffs, sitting on the ground next to the other, “feels like I dunked my head in a bucket of chlorine.”
Yoochun merely smiles, and the pack of cigarettes is dropped in his outstretched hand, soon joined by a Doraemon lighter.
“Cleaning freaks” Junsu mutters, throwing his head back and sighing in contentment after the first puff. “Should’ve escaped earlier.”
Yoochun hums. Junsu glances his way curiously. He sees the older man a lot since he’s basically attached to Changmin’s hip, but he doesn’t know much about him. Yoochun is very secretive, in spite of appearances. But Junsu also happens to be quite observant.
“I have to say, they didn’t lose time” he says, half on purpose. “Changmin gets a job and one month later they’re moving in together. Talk about efficient.”
“They know what they want.”
“You don’t sound too happy.”
Yoochun shrugs and keeps resolutely staring ahead. Junsu exhales a long puff of smoke, thinking. He’s been hesitating for weeks now - one day telling himself it was none of his business, the next deciding it was all a huge waste and someone needed to do something.
It was nearly funny at first… endearing even, Yoochun’s clumsy dance around Changmin. Prolonged stares. Asking for attention. Trying to make him smile and laugh. Always coming up with pretexts to touch and hold him close - never too long, but so often and sometimes so intimately that Junsu can’t blame Jungmi for instinctively acting hostile towards Changmin’s only “friend”. How the two of them wouldn’t let anyone come in between. How Changmin remained utterly clueless when frankly, Junsu can’t see how Yoochun could’ve been more obvious.
It didn’t look so funny anymore when the longing in the older man’s eyes grew to guilt then heartbreak. It became ugly when Changmin himself finally noticed something was wrong, and his glances at Yoochun turned questioning and hurt. Junsu has been watching them all along and he may not understand everything, but he does know they are wasting something rare and sincere.
“When are you going to tell him?”
Yoochun doesn’t move. His hands don’t even twitch, his gaze still fixed ahead as if he didn’t hear.
“Changmin isn’t stupid, you know” Junsu goes on, even though he’s very aware that he’s playing with what may be years’ worth of bottled up feelings. “He can tell something is changing. He’s worried about you.”
“Nothing will change” Yoochun says flatly, his voice void of emotions.
“You mean you’re going to give him your blessings when he gets married and all that stuff but keep acting like a wounded ex-wife” Junsu lets out, more harshly than he’d like “when in reality you never had the guts to say one word to him?”
This time Yoochun does react. He tenses visibly, clenching his jaw, tightening his fists. His gaze hardens but still doesn’t shift away from that distant point ahead.
“Shut up.”
“I’m sorry to break the news to you” Junsu feigns not to hear, “but it never even crossed Changmin’s mind that you could be interested in him that way, and the chances of your sweet love-affair coming true will stay zero unless you man up and spill it out to him-“
“Shut up! I mean that, don’t you-“
“Like ‘hello, in case you haven’t noticed I fucking want you and I’m dying to rip your girlfriend’s hands off you’-“
“Junsu I swear if you don’t stop-“
“And ‘by the way Changmin-ah it’s not exactly called friendship when a guy stares at you all day like he spent the night touching himself thinking of you and’-“
Junsu wanted to trigger a reaction; he wasn’t ready for the violence with which Yoochun throws himself at him. He cries out in pain when the back of his head hits concrete, all the air leaving his lungs at once. Lights burst at the back of his mind - flashes of white, went too far. When he opens his eyes Yoochun is straddling him, unaltered anger distorting his features; hard, chaos storming wildly in black eyes. The other is panting, too upset for words, too hurt, his hands fisted in his T-shirt. Junsu tenses, readying himself for a blow.
It’s the first time he sees Yoochun in that state, and Junsu isn’t a coward but he also didn’t think Yoochun had it in him to look dangerous.
“Don’t…”
The older man can’t even talk, choked by the strength of emotions he’s been repressing for so long. A sharp point of pain is pulsing at the back of Junsu’s head. Yoochun’s hands are heavily pushing down on his chest, all the weight of the other man keeping him pinned to the ground, making it hard for him to breathe.
“Don’t you dare talk about him like I… like it’s all…”
“Like it’s all what?” Junsu manages, struggling to keep his voice even.
Yoochun moves his hands to his forearms, his grip so tight it hurts. There isn’t any less violence in his eyes, anger bordering on fury, hatred even - a stark contrast with their usual dreamy, gentle light - but the pain beneath it all is equally obvious and Junsu knows then that he was right.
“I love him, you asshole” Yoochun snarls, tightening his hold on his arms even more, “I don’t care if you think it’s disgusting but-“
“I never said it was.”
“I love him” Yoochun says once more. As angry as he is, Junsu can hear a tremble in his voice. “And don’t you dare… don’t you dare make fun of me, I know it’s pathetic and-“
“That’s what you think?”
Junsu made his voice as soft as he could and that isn’t lost on Yoochun, albeit unconsciously. He relaxes slightly, hazy pain steadily overcoming the blazing anger filling his eyes just a moment before.
“That it’s pathetic?” Junsu continues in the same quiet voice “because I don’t think it is. And I don’t think Changmin would.”
“Don’t… don’t talk like you know” Yoochun forces out, too many feelings twisting his features for Junsu to name them. “Because you’ve no idea how it feels.”
Suddenly he releases his grip, shaky hands pulling away as he stands up unsteadily. Junsu watches him move a few steps away and sits up carefully after a while, studying Yoochun’s expression. The other’s anger already died out like it never happened. He looks dazed. Lost. Blinking at his surroundings but not really seeing anything, too caught up in his own emotions.
“I’m just trying to understand” Junsu says tentatively after several minutes of silence that seem to last forever, “why didn’t you tell him anything?”
Yoochun barks out a humorless laugh, his face turned away from him.
“Tell him? But of course” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “wonderful idea, thanks, I’m sure he’ll be delighted and run to Jungmi to tell her the good news.”
“Yoochun-“
“It’s Changmin we’re talking about” Yoochun abruptly turns around to face him, his voice too sharp and an inch from breaking, “Changmin. What do you think he’d say?? What d’you think he’d do?”
He takes a sharp intake of breath, blinking fast and his voice shaking slightly.
“Can you just picture the look on his face if I told him? Because I can, and I’d never dare to look straight at him after that” he says, another broken laugh leaving his mouth, forced and bitter. “Well I guess that doesn’t matter because he wouldn’t want me to ever look at him again.”
“You really don’t give him much credit” Junsu says quietly, “Changmin is better than that.”
“And what would it change anyway??” Yoochun retorts angrily, “nothing. I’d lose him for good, that’s all. So keep your advice for yourself and go bother someone else.”
“I don’t get it” Junsu insists, “if you love him that much, how can you do nothing?”
“I just told you-“
“It’s worth trying at least”, Junsu cuts him, wanting to get his point across. “If he means so much to you, why don’t you even try?”
Yoochun doesn’t answer at once, his expression hard and stubborn. Now he does look like a teenager, Junsu thinks absentmindedly, and not in a good way.
“Let me say it again because obviously you don’t get it” Yoochun finally says dryly “it’s Changmin. Maybe I haven’t known him for as long as you but it’s been clear from the beginning what kind of guy he is.”
“And what kind of guy is he?” Junsu frowns, rising to his feet and wiping his palms against his jeans to get rid of the small gravels stuck on them. The back of his head is throbbing, and he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t wake up tomorrow with a massive headache.
“You know very well what I mean” Yoochun answers, averting his gaze. The slight tremor is back in his voice. “Changmin knows what he wants his life to be. He has known for years. He won’t ever question it.”
The older man lowers his head, quiet for a while as he kicks small stones with his foot. The soft sound of pebbles rolling on the ground is the only noise around until he talks again.
“What Changmin wants…” Yoochun stops and breathes in sharply, and when he resumes talking his voice is lower than before, not betraying any emotion. “What Changmin wants is a nice job, one that doesn’t have to be exciting as long as it’s secure. A nice wife he can get along with even when he won’t love her anymore. Nice kids that he’ll accompany on sports days and that he can tell their grandfather about. A nice house, preferably with a garden, and a dog. Or a cat. Add family holidays every year in the same nice place, preferably by the sea. Here. I think you get the whole picture.”
He lets out another humorless chuckle and turns his head, meeting Junsu’s eyes again.
“I don’t fit there” he adds even lower, his voice raspy and slightly hoarse, “or I can only fit as the silly uncle who’ll bring crazy presents so the kids will like me even if I often argue with their mommy.”
There’s another silence. Junsu remains quiet. He wants to have the end of it, as angry as it makes him to hear it.
“So no” Yoochun adds in a final tone, “I won’t tell Changmin. I can’t give him what he wants. I’m not what he wants. I’ll never be.”
“What do you know of what he wants?” Junsu says at last, making a huge effort not to shout at the other. He thrusts his hands deep inside his pockets, clenching his fists. “How can you call yourself his friend… how can you say that you love him but claim that that is all there is to him?? A boring job, a garden and a fucking dog? Really??”
“That-“
“I hope you don’t think anything of what you just said” Junsu cuts him, his voice shaking with repressed anger. “I really do hope so, because if it’s the case then you’re right. You have nothing to do with him.”
“Junsu…”
Now Junsu is the one who feels like hitting the guy standing across him, if only to erase that defeated look on his face and the lifeless light in his eyes.
“He calls you his friend” he snaps, louder, close to shouting. “His friend, Yoochun. I’ve known Changmin since we were only seven and I’m still an acquaintance to him.”
Yoochun doesn’t answer and Junsu lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head.
“I don’t know what I’m trying to do” he says. “Actually I don’t know why I even give a damn since you obviously don’t.”
Yoochun’s eyes narrow and he takes a few quick steps forward, closing the distance between them.
“I told you, you’ve no idea-“
“Oh right you love him” Junsu cuts him again, eyeing him with barely hidden contempt, “excuse me I forgot for a while. You wouldn’t guess, the way you talk about him.”
“Yes I love him, but-“
“Then do something about it!!” Junsu lashes out, wishing nothing more than to kick some sense in the man in front of him, “at least let him know! Tell him!! You’re not going to solve anything by just… just being here and weeping over nothing!”
For a split second Yoochun looks about to scream back but it’s gone the next moment. He says nothing, guarded, his expression unreadable. Junsu remains silent as well, staring at the older man defiantly until it becomes clear that he’s waiting for an answer.
“I’d rather cry over nothing than lose him” Yoochun finally says, his voice barely above a whisper, “you don’t know Junsu… you’ve no idea what he means to me.”
“You’re right, I don’t” Junsu answers quickly, knowing that he has only the next few words to try and convince him that if there is no right way to deal with it, some ways are worse than others and the one Yoochun chose definitely belongs to that last category. “I don’t know what he means to you, but Changmin has no idea either, and I don’t think that’s fair to him.”
He goes on urgently, and his tone turns pleading in spite of himself.
“You said you didn’t want to see his face if you told him the truth, but I don’t want to see his face the day he’ll learn about it - because he will” he adds quickly when Yoochun tries to interrupt, “believe me, he will, someday. And I don’t want to see his face when he’ll understand why you’ve kept all this from him. I don’t want to be here when he’ll realize it’s too late for him to change things.”
Yoochun is quiet in front of him. His expression still betrays nothing, so Junsu can only hope that finally the older man is listening to what he’s saying.
“You think there isn’t even a choice for Changmin here” he adds softly, “but I believe there is. And maybe I’m wrong, but even if I am, you owe him the truth. He deserves the truth.”
“It won’t happen Junsu” Yoochun shakes his head, “I know it won’t. I just know it.”
There are no tears in his eyes, only tiredness… the worn shadow of hopes that fought for too long without really believing in what they were fighting for. Junsu has more to say but it’s that expression that stops him, and steals the words from him. When Yoochun speaks again, his voice is oddly toneless.
“I know already everything you told me. I know it’s true. But it’s not who I am.”
“You could-“
“I know I might regret it” Yoochun goes on with that same flat tone, “I know it’s not the right thing to do… the brave thing to do. But I tried, you know. Before. I used to believe that if you tried hard enough then maybe you could change things, just… just if you tried hard enough.”
The older man stretches his lips in a fake, painful smile. Disillusioned and bitter.
“Then I understood you get nothing by trying” he says. “It just makes it worse. It breaks everything-“
“Surely-“
“It breaks dreams, Junsu” Yoochun ignores him. “It spoils them, and then you can only regret having tried to make them come true. So please, let me keep this a dream.”
His voice breaks as emotions suddenly overcome him. Dark eyes fill with sadness and hurt, but above all there’s a prayer - a plea for Junsu to understand, and for the world to let him be.
“Let me keep him my dream”, he nearly chokes on the words as tears gather in his eyes. “Don’t ask me to ruin that, please… please don’t make me lose him.”
~
“Cor do sangue, with eight letters?”
“No idea.”
“Vigarista?”
“…”
“This one is seven letters.”
“Mmh.”
“São e salva…?”
“…”
“Yoochun?”
Yoochun doesn’t answer, absently doodling in a corner of a music sheet - a remnant of Jaejoong’s firm but short-lived resolve to become a worldwide famous composer, two weeks ago. He gave up after three intense days of vain pursuit of inspiration. Jaejoong thinks talent is like a Rottweiler; if it doesn’t come to you willingly and waggling its tail when you first call out its name, then it is most likely to leave you with a nasty bite at the second try.
It’s a good thing that Yoochun isn’t a Rottweiler, Jaejoong muses. He won’t bite no matter how many times Jaejoong calls him. Hopefully.
“Yoochun?!!” he tries again, and this time throws a pen at him for a better effect.
“What?” Yoochun startles, looking up at last.
“São e salva.”
“Why are we doing crosswords in Spanish?”
“It’s Portuguese.”
Yoochun shrugs, sulkily rubbing his cheek where the pen left a neat black line. Jaejoong sighs and puts the magazine aside - he got it from the hot guy who lives next door and keeps trying to talk to him though Jaejoong doesn’t understand a thing. And given his total lack of reaction to Jaejoong’s answers, said guy obviously doesn’t speak one word of Korean, else he’d either have kissed him senseless or run away to another continent already.
“I’ll call him Miguel.”
“Who?”
“My neighbor.”
“That’s his name?”
“No idea, but it’s sexy.”
Yoochun stares, then shrugs again. So apparently he doesn’t intend to care. That doesn’t sit well with Jaejoong because Yoochun is supposedly the only person who cares. He looks around searching for something else to throw at him and spots the plastic ice cube tray he used last month to try and grow strawberries. There’s still dried compost inside. At least he thinks it’s dried compost.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Jaejoong scowls and looks up, pouting at Yoochun’s stern face.
“Then listen to me!”
“You’re talking in Spanish.”
“It’s Portuguese!”
“Whatever.”
Jaejoong clicks his tongue, not liking the other’s flat tone. Yoochun doesn’t seem to notice, already back to doodling on his paper. He’s frowning. Pensive. Unshaven. He smells like cigarettes. In Jaejoong’s book that’s a greyish aura, and Yoochun is not grey - deep blue, moving shades of purple and indigo… even a nice, bright turquoise on good days, but definitely not grey.
“You’re grey.”
“What?” Yoochun asks without looking at him, sounding only remotely interested.
“You’re grey” Jaejoong repeats haughtily. Then he scowls again and sniffs much less elegantly, already knowing the answer to every “why” he could ask. It doesn’t take a genius to guess anyway.
“That doesn’t mean anything” Yoochun mutters, looking up. “If you-“
“It’s not depression right?”
Yoochun’s eyes narrow. “Jae-“
“Because I can go throttle that bastard right now and the problem will be solved” he offers helpfully.
“That has nothing to do with Changmin” Yoochun snaps, paying full attention to him at last.
“So it is Changmin” Jaejoong stretches a bit, relieved to be finally getting somewhere but not so happy to have his doubts confirmed. “Again.”
Yoochun looks about to answer but he ends up shaking his head in surrender. His expression fell as soon as Changmin was mentioned. He suddenly looks very tired, and Jaejoong feels seriously worried for the first time in a long while.
“You need to get away from him” he leans forward, staring at Yoochun anxiously.
“I can’t…”
Yoochun falls silent, gaze fixed on the wall on his left, a sad expression on his face. He looks different from the Yoochun that Jaejoong knows. He looks adult, and the realization comes as a shock. Yoochun is not supposed to be like this and that makes Jaejoong angry, his instinctive resentment toward Changmin instantly revived. But blunting his anger, there is sadness too. Nostalgia. He doesn’t know. Something along the lines of ‘so the time has come’ - bittersweet and forlorn.
“You need to get away” Jaejoong says again, his tone much different from before, though Yoochun doesn’t seem to notice.
“I can’t-“
“Quit” Jaejoong continues, unperturbed, looking down at the scribbles on his Portuguese crosswords with a frown. It’s hard to say those words. Important words. He can’t look at Yoochun. “Your job, just quit. Your parents. Your brother. Changmin. Everything.”
“What are you-“
“All those things aren’t you” Jaejoong goes on, taking a pen on the floor next to him. He starts scribbling on the back of his left hand, like it will be enough to cover the sound of the words. He doesn’t want to hear his voice say them. “And me as well, you should leave that.”
“What the hell are you saying??”
Yoochun sounds angry. Jaejoong doesn’t like it. It itches like needles poking holes into his chest. He bends forward, trying to ignore the knot in his throat. He’s drawing lines on the back of his hand - like prison bars, like electrical wires where birds love perching, like staffs on a music sheet.
“The things that aren’t you” he says “you are trapped inside them. You won’t be you until you’re without them.”
This time Yoochun doesn’t say anything. Jaejoong has never struggled this much before to say something before and the words come out all wrong, but there’s no other way.
“No one needs you” he goes on, blinking fast. The lines in front of his eyes are blurring. “Your brother doesn’t need you. Changmin doesn’t need you-“
“Jae-“
“I don’t need you.”
He looks up and sees shock and hurt on Yoochun’s face.
“The only person who needs you is yourself” Jaejoong whispers, managing a weak smile, “so go find that, because no one will do it for you.”
There’s a long silence. That awkward, fake smile refuses to leave Jaejoong’s face so he just leaves it here. It doesn’t matter.
“Jaejoong…”
“Cor do sangue.”
“…”
“It’s eight letters.”
A lopsided smile slowly rises to Yoochun’s lips, and Jaejoong’s heart unclenches. It’s not grey anymore - a shimmering light blue, a bit too pale to be hopeful, a bit too dull to be truly heartfelt, but that’s a start. Yoochun heard him.
Part 9.
Note: aaaaand here to some more angst but hopefully Jaejoong is bringing some much needed sunshine~ No YooMin interaction here and no YooMin POV either (SORRY), but I'm hoping having their respective best friends' (acquaintances?) views is a breath of fresh air in an overall deadlocked situation.
Thank you as always for reading/commenting~ <3
Pairings: YooMin
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance, Fluff, slight Angst
Summary:
There is only one truth, Changmin believes, and only one question - is it the one you want?
There is only chance, Yoochun thinks - the meteor crashes, or it doesn’t. And if it does the only question is, will you run fast enough or let the stars collide?
Part 8. Of crosswords and growing up.
“That’s the last one” Junsu announces, unceremoniously dropping a heavy cardboard box at his feet. “But next time someone asks me to help them move places, please remind me to say no.”
“It was just a dozen boxes.”
“And they were like three tons each.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“Of course you wouldn’t know” Junsu scowls, sitting down on the floor and grimacing as he stretches his arms, “all you did was order me around all day.”
“I carried stuff too” Changmin reminds him, rummaging inside a box.
“You picked all the light ones.”
“You mean the fragile ones.”
“My back is broken.”
“Poor old thing you are.”
“Brat.”
“Idiot.”
“Moron.”
“Dimwit.”
“Asshole.”
“Sorry to interrupt” Jungmi’s voice rises out of nowhere and Junsu cranes his head to see Changmin’s girlfriend standing by the door, a floor cloth in her hand and an amused smile on her face, “that was very romantic but I need some help here.”
“Junsu will do it.”
“Changmin will do it.”
“I’m busy right now.”
“I’m resting right now.”
They exchange a look. Changmin’s expression is innocent enough but Junsu has years of experience here. Before he knows it he’ll be on all fours scrubbing the floor of Changmin’s future bedroom in Changmin’s new place with Changmin’s girlfriend telling him to do it again “a little more on the right” and “guys really suck at this”, while Changmin himself will have run away. His only chance is to escape first.
“Someone knows where Yoochun is?” he says out of the blue, jumping to his feet, “I haven’t seen him since you chased him out of the kitchen.”
“He was writing obscenities on the wall” Jungmi deadpans.
“You gave him paint and a brush” Changmin states lightly, “what else could he possibly have done?”
“Well I don’t know… help, maybe” she says stiffly, tensing. Junsu can’t blame her. Personally he found Yoochun’s scribbles hilarious but Jungmi’s parents didn’t think so when they came to give a hand earlier. It doesn’t help that Changmin considers “but it’s Yoochun” a sensible explanation for all the crap the older guy does.
“I’m going to see where he is” Junsu says hastily when he spots Jungmi’s defiant expression and the frown on Changmin’s face. Those two normally get along so well it’s positively disgusting, but when they do argue it’s not pretty. Usually it involves Yoochun.
He’s out of the apartment before any of them can protest and quickly goes down the stairs, ignoring the elevator. The place that Changmin - or rather Jungmi’s parents - found two weeks ago is brand new, entirely renovated. Changmin’s sisters pointed out that it looked a bit impersonal, to which the young couple protested that it was practical along with a dozen arguments to prove their point - from the bus line stopping down the street and going straight to Changmin’s new workplace to the nursery two blocks away for when they’d have children - neat as bullet points. The discussion ended there.
That is, until Yoochun said something along the lines of “all you need now is two kids and couple slippers” and “you can keep the slippers but let me have the kids, they’ll be boring as hell if they grow up with you”. That made Changmin laugh. Jungmi not so much.
Junsu speeds up when he spots Yoochun. Just as he predicted, the other escaped to the backyard behind the building. He’s sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, looking up at the white clouds above, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. There’s that odd air about him that Junsu already noticed before… like it’s not a 26 years old he has in front of him but a teen dressed up in adult clothes.
Junsu comes closer, noticing the butts lining on the ground next to the older man. He counts four.
“Give me one” he asks once he’s close enough, motioning toward Yoochun’s pack of cigarettes.
“I thought you didn’t smoke.”
“I need to wash the smell of bleach off my nose” Junsu sniffs, sitting on the ground next to the other, “feels like I dunked my head in a bucket of chlorine.”
Yoochun merely smiles, and the pack of cigarettes is dropped in his outstretched hand, soon joined by a Doraemon lighter.
“Cleaning freaks” Junsu mutters, throwing his head back and sighing in contentment after the first puff. “Should’ve escaped earlier.”
Yoochun hums. Junsu glances his way curiously. He sees the older man a lot since he’s basically attached to Changmin’s hip, but he doesn’t know much about him. Yoochun is very secretive, in spite of appearances. But Junsu also happens to be quite observant.
“I have to say, they didn’t lose time” he says, half on purpose. “Changmin gets a job and one month later they’re moving in together. Talk about efficient.”
“They know what they want.”
“You don’t sound too happy.”
Yoochun shrugs and keeps resolutely staring ahead. Junsu exhales a long puff of smoke, thinking. He’s been hesitating for weeks now - one day telling himself it was none of his business, the next deciding it was all a huge waste and someone needed to do something.
It was nearly funny at first… endearing even, Yoochun’s clumsy dance around Changmin. Prolonged stares. Asking for attention. Trying to make him smile and laugh. Always coming up with pretexts to touch and hold him close - never too long, but so often and sometimes so intimately that Junsu can’t blame Jungmi for instinctively acting hostile towards Changmin’s only “friend”. How the two of them wouldn’t let anyone come in between. How Changmin remained utterly clueless when frankly, Junsu can’t see how Yoochun could’ve been more obvious.
It didn’t look so funny anymore when the longing in the older man’s eyes grew to guilt then heartbreak. It became ugly when Changmin himself finally noticed something was wrong, and his glances at Yoochun turned questioning and hurt. Junsu has been watching them all along and he may not understand everything, but he does know they are wasting something rare and sincere.
“When are you going to tell him?”
Yoochun doesn’t move. His hands don’t even twitch, his gaze still fixed ahead as if he didn’t hear.
“Changmin isn’t stupid, you know” Junsu goes on, even though he’s very aware that he’s playing with what may be years’ worth of bottled up feelings. “He can tell something is changing. He’s worried about you.”
“Nothing will change” Yoochun says flatly, his voice void of emotions.
“You mean you’re going to give him your blessings when he gets married and all that stuff but keep acting like a wounded ex-wife” Junsu lets out, more harshly than he’d like “when in reality you never had the guts to say one word to him?”
This time Yoochun does react. He tenses visibly, clenching his jaw, tightening his fists. His gaze hardens but still doesn’t shift away from that distant point ahead.
“Shut up.”
“I’m sorry to break the news to you” Junsu feigns not to hear, “but it never even crossed Changmin’s mind that you could be interested in him that way, and the chances of your sweet love-affair coming true will stay zero unless you man up and spill it out to him-“
“Shut up! I mean that, don’t you-“
“Like ‘hello, in case you haven’t noticed I fucking want you and I’m dying to rip your girlfriend’s hands off you’-“
“Junsu I swear if you don’t stop-“
“And ‘by the way Changmin-ah it’s not exactly called friendship when a guy stares at you all day like he spent the night touching himself thinking of you and’-“
Junsu wanted to trigger a reaction; he wasn’t ready for the violence with which Yoochun throws himself at him. He cries out in pain when the back of his head hits concrete, all the air leaving his lungs at once. Lights burst at the back of his mind - flashes of white, went too far. When he opens his eyes Yoochun is straddling him, unaltered anger distorting his features; hard, chaos storming wildly in black eyes. The other is panting, too upset for words, too hurt, his hands fisted in his T-shirt. Junsu tenses, readying himself for a blow.
It’s the first time he sees Yoochun in that state, and Junsu isn’t a coward but he also didn’t think Yoochun had it in him to look dangerous.
“Don’t…”
The older man can’t even talk, choked by the strength of emotions he’s been repressing for so long. A sharp point of pain is pulsing at the back of Junsu’s head. Yoochun’s hands are heavily pushing down on his chest, all the weight of the other man keeping him pinned to the ground, making it hard for him to breathe.
“Don’t you dare talk about him like I… like it’s all…”
“Like it’s all what?” Junsu manages, struggling to keep his voice even.
Yoochun moves his hands to his forearms, his grip so tight it hurts. There isn’t any less violence in his eyes, anger bordering on fury, hatred even - a stark contrast with their usual dreamy, gentle light - but the pain beneath it all is equally obvious and Junsu knows then that he was right.
“I love him, you asshole” Yoochun snarls, tightening his hold on his arms even more, “I don’t care if you think it’s disgusting but-“
“I never said it was.”
“I love him” Yoochun says once more. As angry as he is, Junsu can hear a tremble in his voice. “And don’t you dare… don’t you dare make fun of me, I know it’s pathetic and-“
“That’s what you think?”
Junsu made his voice as soft as he could and that isn’t lost on Yoochun, albeit unconsciously. He relaxes slightly, hazy pain steadily overcoming the blazing anger filling his eyes just a moment before.
“That it’s pathetic?” Junsu continues in the same quiet voice “because I don’t think it is. And I don’t think Changmin would.”
“Don’t… don’t talk like you know” Yoochun forces out, too many feelings twisting his features for Junsu to name them. “Because you’ve no idea how it feels.”
Suddenly he releases his grip, shaky hands pulling away as he stands up unsteadily. Junsu watches him move a few steps away and sits up carefully after a while, studying Yoochun’s expression. The other’s anger already died out like it never happened. He looks dazed. Lost. Blinking at his surroundings but not really seeing anything, too caught up in his own emotions.
“I’m just trying to understand” Junsu says tentatively after several minutes of silence that seem to last forever, “why didn’t you tell him anything?”
Yoochun barks out a humorless laugh, his face turned away from him.
“Tell him? But of course” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “wonderful idea, thanks, I’m sure he’ll be delighted and run to Jungmi to tell her the good news.”
“Yoochun-“
“It’s Changmin we’re talking about” Yoochun abruptly turns around to face him, his voice too sharp and an inch from breaking, “Changmin. What do you think he’d say?? What d’you think he’d do?”
He takes a sharp intake of breath, blinking fast and his voice shaking slightly.
“Can you just picture the look on his face if I told him? Because I can, and I’d never dare to look straight at him after that” he says, another broken laugh leaving his mouth, forced and bitter. “Well I guess that doesn’t matter because he wouldn’t want me to ever look at him again.”
“You really don’t give him much credit” Junsu says quietly, “Changmin is better than that.”
“And what would it change anyway??” Yoochun retorts angrily, “nothing. I’d lose him for good, that’s all. So keep your advice for yourself and go bother someone else.”
“I don’t get it” Junsu insists, “if you love him that much, how can you do nothing?”
“I just told you-“
“It’s worth trying at least”, Junsu cuts him, wanting to get his point across. “If he means so much to you, why don’t you even try?”
Yoochun doesn’t answer at once, his expression hard and stubborn. Now he does look like a teenager, Junsu thinks absentmindedly, and not in a good way.
“Let me say it again because obviously you don’t get it” Yoochun finally says dryly “it’s Changmin. Maybe I haven’t known him for as long as you but it’s been clear from the beginning what kind of guy he is.”
“And what kind of guy is he?” Junsu frowns, rising to his feet and wiping his palms against his jeans to get rid of the small gravels stuck on them. The back of his head is throbbing, and he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t wake up tomorrow with a massive headache.
“You know very well what I mean” Yoochun answers, averting his gaze. The slight tremor is back in his voice. “Changmin knows what he wants his life to be. He has known for years. He won’t ever question it.”
The older man lowers his head, quiet for a while as he kicks small stones with his foot. The soft sound of pebbles rolling on the ground is the only noise around until he talks again.
“What Changmin wants…” Yoochun stops and breathes in sharply, and when he resumes talking his voice is lower than before, not betraying any emotion. “What Changmin wants is a nice job, one that doesn’t have to be exciting as long as it’s secure. A nice wife he can get along with even when he won’t love her anymore. Nice kids that he’ll accompany on sports days and that he can tell their grandfather about. A nice house, preferably with a garden, and a dog. Or a cat. Add family holidays every year in the same nice place, preferably by the sea. Here. I think you get the whole picture.”
He lets out another humorless chuckle and turns his head, meeting Junsu’s eyes again.
“I don’t fit there” he adds even lower, his voice raspy and slightly hoarse, “or I can only fit as the silly uncle who’ll bring crazy presents so the kids will like me even if I often argue with their mommy.”
There’s another silence. Junsu remains quiet. He wants to have the end of it, as angry as it makes him to hear it.
“So no” Yoochun adds in a final tone, “I won’t tell Changmin. I can’t give him what he wants. I’m not what he wants. I’ll never be.”
“What do you know of what he wants?” Junsu says at last, making a huge effort not to shout at the other. He thrusts his hands deep inside his pockets, clenching his fists. “How can you call yourself his friend… how can you say that you love him but claim that that is all there is to him?? A boring job, a garden and a fucking dog? Really??”
“That-“
“I hope you don’t think anything of what you just said” Junsu cuts him, his voice shaking with repressed anger. “I really do hope so, because if it’s the case then you’re right. You have nothing to do with him.”
“Junsu…”
Now Junsu is the one who feels like hitting the guy standing across him, if only to erase that defeated look on his face and the lifeless light in his eyes.
“He calls you his friend” he snaps, louder, close to shouting. “His friend, Yoochun. I’ve known Changmin since we were only seven and I’m still an acquaintance to him.”
Yoochun doesn’t answer and Junsu lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head.
“I don’t know what I’m trying to do” he says. “Actually I don’t know why I even give a damn since you obviously don’t.”
Yoochun’s eyes narrow and he takes a few quick steps forward, closing the distance between them.
“I told you, you’ve no idea-“
“Oh right you love him” Junsu cuts him again, eyeing him with barely hidden contempt, “excuse me I forgot for a while. You wouldn’t guess, the way you talk about him.”
“Yes I love him, but-“
“Then do something about it!!” Junsu lashes out, wishing nothing more than to kick some sense in the man in front of him, “at least let him know! Tell him!! You’re not going to solve anything by just… just being here and weeping over nothing!”
For a split second Yoochun looks about to scream back but it’s gone the next moment. He says nothing, guarded, his expression unreadable. Junsu remains silent as well, staring at the older man defiantly until it becomes clear that he’s waiting for an answer.
“I’d rather cry over nothing than lose him” Yoochun finally says, his voice barely above a whisper, “you don’t know Junsu… you’ve no idea what he means to me.”
“You’re right, I don’t” Junsu answers quickly, knowing that he has only the next few words to try and convince him that if there is no right way to deal with it, some ways are worse than others and the one Yoochun chose definitely belongs to that last category. “I don’t know what he means to you, but Changmin has no idea either, and I don’t think that’s fair to him.”
He goes on urgently, and his tone turns pleading in spite of himself.
“You said you didn’t want to see his face if you told him the truth, but I don’t want to see his face the day he’ll learn about it - because he will” he adds quickly when Yoochun tries to interrupt, “believe me, he will, someday. And I don’t want to see his face when he’ll understand why you’ve kept all this from him. I don’t want to be here when he’ll realize it’s too late for him to change things.”
Yoochun is quiet in front of him. His expression still betrays nothing, so Junsu can only hope that finally the older man is listening to what he’s saying.
“You think there isn’t even a choice for Changmin here” he adds softly, “but I believe there is. And maybe I’m wrong, but even if I am, you owe him the truth. He deserves the truth.”
“It won’t happen Junsu” Yoochun shakes his head, “I know it won’t. I just know it.”
There are no tears in his eyes, only tiredness… the worn shadow of hopes that fought for too long without really believing in what they were fighting for. Junsu has more to say but it’s that expression that stops him, and steals the words from him. When Yoochun speaks again, his voice is oddly toneless.
“I know already everything you told me. I know it’s true. But it’s not who I am.”
“You could-“
“I know I might regret it” Yoochun goes on with that same flat tone, “I know it’s not the right thing to do… the brave thing to do. But I tried, you know. Before. I used to believe that if you tried hard enough then maybe you could change things, just… just if you tried hard enough.”
The older man stretches his lips in a fake, painful smile. Disillusioned and bitter.
“Then I understood you get nothing by trying” he says. “It just makes it worse. It breaks everything-“
“Surely-“
“It breaks dreams, Junsu” Yoochun ignores him. “It spoils them, and then you can only regret having tried to make them come true. So please, let me keep this a dream.”
His voice breaks as emotions suddenly overcome him. Dark eyes fill with sadness and hurt, but above all there’s a prayer - a plea for Junsu to understand, and for the world to let him be.
“Let me keep him my dream”, he nearly chokes on the words as tears gather in his eyes. “Don’t ask me to ruin that, please… please don’t make me lose him.”
~
“Cor do sangue, with eight letters?”
“No idea.”
“Vigarista?”
“…”
“This one is seven letters.”
“Mmh.”
“São e salva…?”
“…”
“Yoochun?”
Yoochun doesn’t answer, absently doodling in a corner of a music sheet - a remnant of Jaejoong’s firm but short-lived resolve to become a worldwide famous composer, two weeks ago. He gave up after three intense days of vain pursuit of inspiration. Jaejoong thinks talent is like a Rottweiler; if it doesn’t come to you willingly and waggling its tail when you first call out its name, then it is most likely to leave you with a nasty bite at the second try.
It’s a good thing that Yoochun isn’t a Rottweiler, Jaejoong muses. He won’t bite no matter how many times Jaejoong calls him. Hopefully.
“Yoochun?!!” he tries again, and this time throws a pen at him for a better effect.
“What?” Yoochun startles, looking up at last.
“São e salva.”
“Why are we doing crosswords in Spanish?”
“It’s Portuguese.”
Yoochun shrugs, sulkily rubbing his cheek where the pen left a neat black line. Jaejoong sighs and puts the magazine aside - he got it from the hot guy who lives next door and keeps trying to talk to him though Jaejoong doesn’t understand a thing. And given his total lack of reaction to Jaejoong’s answers, said guy obviously doesn’t speak one word of Korean, else he’d either have kissed him senseless or run away to another continent already.
“I’ll call him Miguel.”
“Who?”
“My neighbor.”
“That’s his name?”
“No idea, but it’s sexy.”
Yoochun stares, then shrugs again. So apparently he doesn’t intend to care. That doesn’t sit well with Jaejoong because Yoochun is supposedly the only person who cares. He looks around searching for something else to throw at him and spots the plastic ice cube tray he used last month to try and grow strawberries. There’s still dried compost inside. At least he thinks it’s dried compost.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Jaejoong scowls and looks up, pouting at Yoochun’s stern face.
“Then listen to me!”
“You’re talking in Spanish.”
“It’s Portuguese!”
“Whatever.”
Jaejoong clicks his tongue, not liking the other’s flat tone. Yoochun doesn’t seem to notice, already back to doodling on his paper. He’s frowning. Pensive. Unshaven. He smells like cigarettes. In Jaejoong’s book that’s a greyish aura, and Yoochun is not grey - deep blue, moving shades of purple and indigo… even a nice, bright turquoise on good days, but definitely not grey.
“You’re grey.”
“What?” Yoochun asks without looking at him, sounding only remotely interested.
“You’re grey” Jaejoong repeats haughtily. Then he scowls again and sniffs much less elegantly, already knowing the answer to every “why” he could ask. It doesn’t take a genius to guess anyway.
“That doesn’t mean anything” Yoochun mutters, looking up. “If you-“
“It’s not depression right?”
Yoochun’s eyes narrow. “Jae-“
“Because I can go throttle that bastard right now and the problem will be solved” he offers helpfully.
“That has nothing to do with Changmin” Yoochun snaps, paying full attention to him at last.
“So it is Changmin” Jaejoong stretches a bit, relieved to be finally getting somewhere but not so happy to have his doubts confirmed. “Again.”
Yoochun looks about to answer but he ends up shaking his head in surrender. His expression fell as soon as Changmin was mentioned. He suddenly looks very tired, and Jaejoong feels seriously worried for the first time in a long while.
“You need to get away from him” he leans forward, staring at Yoochun anxiously.
“I can’t…”
Yoochun falls silent, gaze fixed on the wall on his left, a sad expression on his face. He looks different from the Yoochun that Jaejoong knows. He looks adult, and the realization comes as a shock. Yoochun is not supposed to be like this and that makes Jaejoong angry, his instinctive resentment toward Changmin instantly revived. But blunting his anger, there is sadness too. Nostalgia. He doesn’t know. Something along the lines of ‘so the time has come’ - bittersweet and forlorn.
“You need to get away” Jaejoong says again, his tone much different from before, though Yoochun doesn’t seem to notice.
“I can’t-“
“Quit” Jaejoong continues, unperturbed, looking down at the scribbles on his Portuguese crosswords with a frown. It’s hard to say those words. Important words. He can’t look at Yoochun. “Your job, just quit. Your parents. Your brother. Changmin. Everything.”
“What are you-“
“All those things aren’t you” Jaejoong goes on, taking a pen on the floor next to him. He starts scribbling on the back of his left hand, like it will be enough to cover the sound of the words. He doesn’t want to hear his voice say them. “And me as well, you should leave that.”
“What the hell are you saying??”
Yoochun sounds angry. Jaejoong doesn’t like it. It itches like needles poking holes into his chest. He bends forward, trying to ignore the knot in his throat. He’s drawing lines on the back of his hand - like prison bars, like electrical wires where birds love perching, like staffs on a music sheet.
“The things that aren’t you” he says “you are trapped inside them. You won’t be you until you’re without them.”
This time Yoochun doesn’t say anything. Jaejoong has never struggled this much before to say something before and the words come out all wrong, but there’s no other way.
“No one needs you” he goes on, blinking fast. The lines in front of his eyes are blurring. “Your brother doesn’t need you. Changmin doesn’t need you-“
“Jae-“
“I don’t need you.”
He looks up and sees shock and hurt on Yoochun’s face.
“The only person who needs you is yourself” Jaejoong whispers, managing a weak smile, “so go find that, because no one will do it for you.”
There’s a long silence. That awkward, fake smile refuses to leave Jaejoong’s face so he just leaves it here. It doesn’t matter.
“Jaejoong…”
“Cor do sangue.”
“…”
“It’s eight letters.”
A lopsided smile slowly rises to Yoochun’s lips, and Jaejoong’s heart unclenches. It’s not grey anymore - a shimmering light blue, a bit too pale to be hopeful, a bit too dull to be truly heartfelt, but that’s a start. Yoochun heard him.
Part 9.
Note: aaaaand here to some more angst but hopefully Jaejoong is bringing some much needed sunshine~ No YooMin interaction here and no YooMin POV either (SORRY), but I'm hoping having their respective best friends' (acquaintances?) views is a breath of fresh air in an overall deadlocked situation.
Thank you as always for reading/commenting~ <3