[fic][TVXQ] touches, smiles and other small things (which mean nothing)
>> TVXQ
>> Yoosu (of a sort), maybe Yunchun (if you want).
>> 800w approx.
>> No warnings to speak of. Unless sorta sad is a warning. Or UST.
>> I wrote this on Monday morning. Read it over and decided to post it just now. Har har.
touches, smiles and other small things (which mean nothing)
They both smile. Junsu smiles the way he always does. Yoochun tries to smile the way he always does-and falls short. Yoochun dislikes all this smiling for the cameras. The smile which is supposed to accompany every answer he gives and most of the photographs they take. It devalues the smile. It’s no longer a sign of happiness, or even contentment, it’s just the standard. Yoochun’s supposed to smile even when he wants to cry. (Except they don’t mind him crying, at the right moments. It sells, apparently. Only he can‘t cry when they‘re on a plane to Tokyo on his mother‘s birthday, even if no-one‘s looking, and he‘s not supposed to cry himself to sleep or cry backstage because it unsettles everyone.)
Junsu doesn’t mind smiling for the cameras. Probably because doing this really does make him happy but also because even when he isn’t happy he’d rather everyone thought that he was. It’s easier that way. Junsu hates the way Yoochun cries in public. If Junsu needed to cry he’d lock himself in the toilets or pretend he needed to get his make-up redone and sneak off somewhere as if looking for someone to fix it.
The other thing Junsu hates is the way that everyone has put their arms around each other, hold hands, touch. He remembers how he got used to it as a trainee. The way that no one believed you were sincere unless you slung an arm over their shoulder as you agreed with them. Junsu remembers how Yoochun got used to it-though it took him longer. America is different, apparently. They don’t do this. And Yunho, ever the peace-maker and unifier, would go over to him and try to get him talking. Junsu never talked to Yoochun.
A couple of times he remembered waiting around to catch the bus home with Yunho and watching him put his hands all over Yoochun, “Hey,” hand on shoulder, “How’re you settling in?” hand going all the way around his shoulders, close in, tight. Yoochun flinching. “Not feel like talking?” Other hand brushing Yoochun’s. “Well, you can come to me anytime, you know,” patting his shoulder as he withdraws his arm, “I’m sure Junsu’d help you out too,” gesticulating at Junsu with one hand, other around Yoochun‘s waist, and Yoochun barely even looking, “We’ve both been here a long time, so we might be able to give you a hand.” Finished off with a slap on the back. A little too hard. Junsu can see Yoochun wince even if Yunho can’t.
These days though, the touches are so natural that none of them feel them. An arm around a shoulder doesn’t mean anything. A hand on a knee. It’s as natural as making sure you mention the single release at every concert and the tour on every TV appearance. It’s “I’m Junsu and he’s,” hand on arm, “Yoochun,” and occasionally there’s a look around and a smile but most of the time it doesn’t even matter if you look because it’s all part of the process. Except that Junsu’s sometimes not sure that it is-with Yoochun, anyway.
Late nights, when they get back to wherever they’re staying and Junsu collapses onto the sofa. Yoochun will sit down next to him, side pressing against side in that familiar way, put an arm around him and lean on him. Junsu often wonders what that is. It’s not a statement Junsu recognises, it’s not an official recognition of anything. At best, it’s thoughtless tiredness. At worst, it’s a statement of Yoochun’s need for Junsu. It could just be need for anyone but Junsu knows he doesn’t do this to Jaejoong, maybe because Jaejoong would laugh at him or maybe because Jaejoong is too important to him to be lost through a few incidences in shared hotel rooms which are worse than sharing a couch. Whereas Junsu isn’t the sort to say anything (Jaejoong might well tell the world on national TV) and would not be such a major loss even if he did refuse to speak to Yoochun for a few days. And, since that’s the worst Junsu could do, Yoochun sometimes climbs into Junsu’s bed at night and pulls Junsu in so close to him that Junsu becomes conscious of his own breath and how Yoochun can surely hear the way it hitches nervously.
And that’s all that ever happens. And Junsu hates it, hates the feel of Yoochun’s fingers on his back half closed and pulling at his skin like a child’s grabbing hands, and the way he cries once he thinks Junsu’s asleep-as if he really cares to hide it anyway. And it’s all Junsu can do to pretend that this is all part of the process, all in the script. (We’re close because we’re the same age.) This is just acting. And it’s all Junsu can do to pretend that, just like hands on knees and arms draped over shoulders in interviews, neither of them feels a thing.
>> Yoosu (of a sort), maybe Yunchun (if you want).
>> 800w approx.
>> No warnings to speak of. Unless sorta sad is a warning. Or UST.
>> I wrote this on Monday morning. Read it over and decided to post it just now. Har har.
touches, smiles and other small things (which mean nothing)
They both smile. Junsu smiles the way he always does. Yoochun tries to smile the way he always does-and falls short. Yoochun dislikes all this smiling for the cameras. The smile which is supposed to accompany every answer he gives and most of the photographs they take. It devalues the smile. It’s no longer a sign of happiness, or even contentment, it’s just the standard. Yoochun’s supposed to smile even when he wants to cry. (Except they don’t mind him crying, at the right moments. It sells, apparently. Only he can‘t cry when they‘re on a plane to Tokyo on his mother‘s birthday, even if no-one‘s looking, and he‘s not supposed to cry himself to sleep or cry backstage because it unsettles everyone.)
Junsu doesn’t mind smiling for the cameras. Probably because doing this really does make him happy but also because even when he isn’t happy he’d rather everyone thought that he was. It’s easier that way. Junsu hates the way Yoochun cries in public. If Junsu needed to cry he’d lock himself in the toilets or pretend he needed to get his make-up redone and sneak off somewhere as if looking for someone to fix it.
The other thing Junsu hates is the way that everyone has put their arms around each other, hold hands, touch. He remembers how he got used to it as a trainee. The way that no one believed you were sincere unless you slung an arm over their shoulder as you agreed with them. Junsu remembers how Yoochun got used to it-though it took him longer. America is different, apparently. They don’t do this. And Yunho, ever the peace-maker and unifier, would go over to him and try to get him talking. Junsu never talked to Yoochun.
A couple of times he remembered waiting around to catch the bus home with Yunho and watching him put his hands all over Yoochun, “Hey,” hand on shoulder, “How’re you settling in?” hand going all the way around his shoulders, close in, tight. Yoochun flinching. “Not feel like talking?” Other hand brushing Yoochun’s. “Well, you can come to me anytime, you know,” patting his shoulder as he withdraws his arm, “I’m sure Junsu’d help you out too,” gesticulating at Junsu with one hand, other around Yoochun‘s waist, and Yoochun barely even looking, “We’ve both been here a long time, so we might be able to give you a hand.” Finished off with a slap on the back. A little too hard. Junsu can see Yoochun wince even if Yunho can’t.
These days though, the touches are so natural that none of them feel them. An arm around a shoulder doesn’t mean anything. A hand on a knee. It’s as natural as making sure you mention the single release at every concert and the tour on every TV appearance. It’s “I’m Junsu and he’s,” hand on arm, “Yoochun,” and occasionally there’s a look around and a smile but most of the time it doesn’t even matter if you look because it’s all part of the process. Except that Junsu’s sometimes not sure that it is-with Yoochun, anyway.
Late nights, when they get back to wherever they’re staying and Junsu collapses onto the sofa. Yoochun will sit down next to him, side pressing against side in that familiar way, put an arm around him and lean on him. Junsu often wonders what that is. It’s not a statement Junsu recognises, it’s not an official recognition of anything. At best, it’s thoughtless tiredness. At worst, it’s a statement of Yoochun’s need for Junsu. It could just be need for anyone but Junsu knows he doesn’t do this to Jaejoong, maybe because Jaejoong would laugh at him or maybe because Jaejoong is too important to him to be lost through a few incidences in shared hotel rooms which are worse than sharing a couch. Whereas Junsu isn’t the sort to say anything (Jaejoong might well tell the world on national TV) and would not be such a major loss even if he did refuse to speak to Yoochun for a few days. And, since that’s the worst Junsu could do, Yoochun sometimes climbs into Junsu’s bed at night and pulls Junsu in so close to him that Junsu becomes conscious of his own breath and how Yoochun can surely hear the way it hitches nervously.
And that’s all that ever happens. And Junsu hates it, hates the feel of Yoochun’s fingers on his back half closed and pulling at his skin like a child’s grabbing hands, and the way he cries once he thinks Junsu’s asleep-as if he really cares to hide it anyway. And it’s all Junsu can do to pretend that this is all part of the process, all in the script. (We’re close because we’re the same age.) This is just acting. And it’s all Junsu can do to pretend that, just like hands on knees and arms draped over shoulders in interviews, neither of them feels a thing.