Promise in an Apron Pocket 6/6
At his old flat, there was a mutual understanding between him and Changmin that whatever was there had a place. Whenever Junsu lost something, he could find it without having to turn the entire place over in his quest. Living with Yoochun was as far from that ideal as possible. Junsu pushed the full waste bin aside as he unearthed a forgotten air humidifier.
He didn't see why Yoochun would have need for a humidifier when he smoked at least four cigarettes a day. Really, it was unhealthy.
Then again, the whole mess of an apartment was unhealthy. As he wiped his dripping forehead off with a spare shirt, the memory of Yoochun’s "wake-up call" that morning came flooding back to his mind.
//
Junsu twisted in the sheets, searching for something outside of his blood filled dreams, something tangible. Something... that wasn't grabbing his ass.
He felt the hand on his back fall alongside the other hand, arching his back into the form next to him.
Without opening his eyes, he already knew his answer. "Yoochun, what are you doing?"
"Oh, I was having a bad dream."
"So why are you grabbing my ass?"
He opened one eye, making a face at the other man.
"I was afraid it was gone. Don't worry, it's still there." With one final squeeze, the smile on his face turned into pain as a certain hand came into contact with his face, knocking him backwards almost off the bed.
//
He turned to face the cold on his cheek. Yoochun was dressed in that silly apron again, holding a can of soda to Junsu's cheek. "Here."
Junsu took the drink, quenching his thirst and trying to cool himself down. "Why do you have that on?"
"Well, I'm pretending to cook for you. And it helps me get into cleaning the kitchen."
"You're cleaning the kitchen?"
"Yes. And maybe the bathroom next."
"Hopefully not in that apron."
"Oh?"
"You pretend to cook in it, remember?" He doesn't give Yoochun a chance to answer, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Thanks for helping."
Yoochun smiled. "We're cleaning my mess."
A few ashes landed on the floor below Yoochun from the end of his cigarette. Junsu made a face.
"Are you trying to kill us both? What if the whole building catches on fire because of those?" He brushed the ashes away with his hand. "And why do you have a humidifier under your desk?"
"I figured that one day, someone would need it."
"So that's why you have all those games in the closet..."
"No, that's just unmarked porn."
Junsu could only stare.
"You act like you've never watched it before."
No response.
"...Damn."
"Shut up."
"Well, I just never-"
"Lalala~"
"You should let me kiss you right now."
"Once is enough. And your breath stinks right now."
"Lips." Yoochun puckered his lips, closed his eyes, and waited for Junsu to move in.
Junsu stared at Yoochun in disbelief. Once second Yoochun was a perverted creep and the next he was acting like a cute dandy boy. So while Yoochun's eyes were still closed, he got up and walked out of the room.
"Junsuuuu!" Yoochun whined, hanging onto the door's frame as Junsu continued to ignore him.
"I think the laundry should be done."
Yoochun made various sounds of protest from the bedroom door, sliding down the frame in faux-desperation. He landed on the floor with a soft plop, and decided to lie down in the doorway. "Oh, I've been abandoned. I think might just - oh!"
Junsu ignored Yoochun's fake fainting, stepped over the man, and pulled the sheets of the bed to put it in the next laundry load. He ignored any cries of 'Oh, I'm dying!' to 'I need the kiss of life!' and stepped out of the room.
The sounds of Yoochun’s apparent anguish followed Junsu down the short hall way, only pausing for the beep of the dryer. Yoochun let out one last 'Junsu-yah!' before giving way to a fit of laughter. He laid there, eyes closed and defeated.
Needless to say, Yoochun was surprised to feel a pair of soft lips cushion against his own.
"If you're done, I could really use your help."
Without a second thought, Yoochun grinned, letting Junsu pull him up from the floor.
//
Yoochun wiped the sweat from his forehead, finishing up the chores Junsu left for him (“These are the easy ones, so get them done!”). Checking his watch, he noticed there was still time to catch Junsu at work. He took off his apron - because no, he didn't take it off when Junsu had asked - and headed for the shower.
Housework actually made one sweat a lot more than expected, so Yoochun found relief in the relatively cool water.
He watched from a crack in a door as shadows and ghosts of whispers reached his ears. Ever so often, he would dive behind the doorframe when a pair of labored footsteps came closer. Now, he had the perfect view: two people - his brother and a stranger.
"So that's a deal." His brother’s voice was filled with too much delight for his own comfort.
"If what you told me is true, yes."
They walked towards the door and Yoochun made an effort to have it seem like he was just walking by. His brother eyed him strangely before walking the other way. "You know the way out."
The stranger, who Yoochun could now see was an old woman, nodded and walked towards Yoochun. Their eyes met, she stared and looked back in the direction his brother left. She seemed relieved when she saw no one there and turned back to Yoochun, "Your promise will be the death of you."
"What?"
Yoochun awoke with a start, the cold shower tiles waking him from his dream. That woman-he was sure it was the same one he had seen the night before. A feeling of dread churned in his stomach with the eggs and toast he had made that morning, and he barely caught his balance as he struggled to get dressed; Junsu could yell at him later for not drying his hair first.
The line for the cafe seemed longer than he remembered (when was the last time he had stopped in for coffee?) and there was one less white apron running from the tables to the backroom.
"Excuse me," Yoochun grabbed the hem of a taller man's shirt sleeve, green eyes blinking curiously at him. "Hi, is Junsu here?"
"He was here earlier, but-"
"Do you know where he went?"
The waiter, too afraid of the frantic man in front of him, pointed to the road branching off in front of the cafe.
YooChun was about to head in that direction when he thought he saw the old woman - the same one from his vision. She was at the corner of the next block. He chased after her, but somehow he would always be two steps behind. He continued to follow the flashes of tattered black and green fabric, the buildings getting smaller and smaller - less complex. Yoochun noticed that this was leading him into less populated areas, following each glimpse of the woman he saw.
He stopped abruptly at a corner. Did he lose her? For an old hag, she had some serious stamina. He scanned the blocks around him. There was no way this was simply a coincidence. He might have attributed it to that before he met Junsu, but after all that had happened, he no longer believed in ‘just accidents.’ The old lady had to be a connection to their past. One glimpse of her graying hair and she disappeared once again. There was no doubt in YooChun’s mind that this apparition held the answers to their past.
YooChun was startled when the old woman appeared right in front of him, staring him in the eye. She was whispering something, and Yoochun had to bend down lower to hear. Her whisper was almost inaudible: "Your promise will be the death of you."
He was about to ask for an explanation when she covered his ears with her hands. Everything became muted.
"If my brother makes any such vow - I want it to end. You will receive your payment."
He isn't answered, so he continues, "So it's a deal."
"If what you told me is true, yes."
//
She watched from a distance as the happenings unfolded. Junsu's hand moved the knife in Yoochun. She couldn't hear what they were saying from where she was, but Yoochun was talking, holding onto Junsu's hand. Junsu's back was to her, but his figure was shaking as the dagger drove deeper.
'That promise killed them.'
His skin crawled at the sight of his blood pouring so mercilessly from his body, almost as if he could feel the phantom blade penetrating his flesh. No such luck. He let out a raged breath as the woman's grasp on his head released. Once again, he found himself asking the same question.
"Where is Junsu?" Her expression softened, but she shook her head. He felt his anger spark as she moved backwards, her feet seeming to glide along the pavement. "Where is he?"
The growl seemed to echo from deep within him, he was on the verge of hurting this woman as she raised a long, pointed finger in his direction. He turned, following her directions, and saw a small, two-story house, elegant yet over grown with time. A “For Sale” sign stuck precariously up from a garden of weeds. He knew from the rush of chilled air ghosting along his cheek that the woman had disappeared again, but he dared not turn around. A strangled cry seemed to escape through the broken upstairs window blinds, a cry he had never heard, but knew automatically the person whom the voice belonged to.
The stairs seemed to fly behind him in twos until he reached the topmost room, a small attic-like enclosure, tattered, cheap wallpaper and wooden floors that creaked with each unsure step. In the corner of the room, facing away from him, a form cradled itself against a forgotten bookcase.
“Junsu-"
"Don't come near me!"
The scream pierced his heart more than anything he had heard before. Junsu seemed to war with himself silently, every few seconds letting out a strangled, high note of pain.
“Why are you here? What’s wrong? Was it ChangMin?” With each question, YooChun took a step forward, only stopping when the man on the floor slammed a fist into the crackling wallpaper.
"Step back, Yoochun."
Junsu seemed to have won over his inner demon as he stood unsteadily using the bookcase as a crutch.
"Junsu, tell me how to help..."
"I can't control it, Yoochun-" Something fell to the floor, forming a small pool on the oak. Tears and blood mixed to stain the wood as Junsu pulled a small matchbook from his pocket, his other hand firmly grasping his own bleeding flesh. Beside himself at the sight, Yoochun took two steps back before falling to the floor, eyes wide. This wasn't the man he knew.
In one, twitching movement, Junsu scraped the match against the rough paper, its flame flickering to life. Yoochun watched the scene unfurl in slow motion. He was helpless to catch the match before it hit the ground, Junsu's hand shaking against its own will as it uncurled around the tiny match. Within seconds, the flame jumped to the peeling wallpaper, feeding on it with a raging hunger. The faint smell of gasoline floated up from the floor below.
"We have to go! Junsu-"
Yoochun stood on shaking legs, his vision blurring as the pictures on the wall curled and turned to ashes, half of the room covered in a wave of flames. His plea went unheard. Junsu let out one last scream before falling back to the ground, the matchbook hitting the floor. His eyes iced over in a cold, unfeeling gaze as he rose from the ground once more. All evidence of the Junsu he knew was gone, something inhuman in his place.
Junsu lunged, aiming a punch at Yoochun’s head, but the taller dodged the blow, grabbing that hand in his only to realize the blood flowing from Junsu's hand cloaked a long, thin, broken shard of glass. He winced, letting go of the hand. The cut on his hand didn't register in his mind as he watched Junsu’s blood pool at his feet.
"Junsu, we need to get you bandaged-"
"You and your promises." Junsu lunged again, this time, barely missing Yoochun’s throat. "Why did you make me promise?!"
Now, the flames had encompassed the entire room, flames erupting from the wooden beams below their feet. Something fell behind him, feeding the flames, but Yoochun didn't have time to think as Junsu threw his weight at Yoochun, knocking them both to the floor. The glass knife at his throat, Yoochun barely had the strength to hold it away.
"This isn't you, Junsu! You can fight it!"
"No, I can't." Junsu's voice was breaking. It was then that Yoochun could see the tears glistening in his eyes. The shard cut into the exposed flesh of his neck, threatening to cut him open in one swift blow, Yoochun’s grip on his attacker, his Junsu, slipping. Tears fell as Junsu pleaded, "If you kill me first, you can get away."
The wooden floor creaked in response, a part of it collapsing under the weight of the spreading fire.
"I could never kill you, Junsu. I love you!" With all his strength, Yoochun pushed Junsu off of him, pulling the shorter man up with him as he stood. A flash of crimson and the glass pierced his back in a feeble attempt to kill him. A deep, painful growl reverberated through his chest, his body slouching into Junsu’s. He could take it, if only for a few minutes. And right then, he made a decision.
"I-I don't love you." He closed his eyes, the pain taking over his thoughts, and concentrated on his words. "I don't love you. I just want us to get out, Junsu. If forgetting me means we - you - get to live. Then I don't have to love you."
The knife in his back twisted, pulling another scream from him. He felt his vision blur with tears, but the tears that fell came from above him. As he lifted his head from Junsu's chest, he could feel the shard fall from the bleeding hands and could see his pain mirrored in Junsu's gaze. Junsu's arms encircled Yoochun’s wounded back, careful of the blood clotting just below his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Yoochun." The malice that had been in his eyes disappeared completely, leaving only the man he knew. Junsu’s shoulders heaved with each strangled breath. He was surprised to feel Yoochun’s shoulders shaking as well. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, just," he pushed away from Junsu's embrace, laughter shining in the corners of his eyes. "Can we make out after we're out of the burning house?"
“Park Yoochun, I can’t believe you still have the time to make jokes at a time like this.” He looked around, worried. There wasn't a visible exit in sight. Were they destined to suffer the same fate in this lifetime also? The weight of Yoochun's body against him caught his attention. He laughed bitterly. "That is so like you, falling asleep on me."
Junsu pulled Yoochun's body closer, deciding to carry the man on his back. He tried to move quickly, but that was hard considering the unsteady floor and closed exits (And if they lived, he swore he would never let YooChun near another doughnut again). He was making his way through a hallway when he thought he saw something, so he took a step back. In the middle of what looked like a portion of living room, there was an elderly woman - the same one he saw in his vision. 'But that's impossible'.
"We have to get out of here!"
She didn't seem to hear him, staying still. Junsu was about to yell once more when her hand moved, motioning him towards her. His legs moved on their own as he made his way into the room. 'No! No, we have to get out of here.'
The room flashed a bright white that made Junsu want to cover his eyes with his hands had he not been holding Yoochun. Then there was nothing. It was a peaceful sort of nothing, all color drained for the lifeless world.
A hand waved over a boiling concoction. "Long as this promise lasts, so will this curse be cast."
'Just as ordered.'
//
'There has to be a warning.'
//
"Your promise will be the death of you."
//
"Please?"
"Okay, now what am I promising?"
"Never to leave me."
"I'm not--"
"Stop whining and do it!"
"Fine. I promise"
//
"That promise killed them."
"You don't need that promise." Her voice was strong and clear, different from the visions.
Another flash of white and there was a Park Yoochun next to him on the floor, trying not to wake up, mumbling something about wanting five more minutes of sleep maybe. Junsu laughed and noticed that the pain in his sides was gone, as if they were just a phantom pain he thought up. He touched the stained spot on Yoochun's back - it was nothing more than dried blood now.
"Hey, stop that tickles."
"Yoochun, are you okay? Get up."
The smell of burnt wood was the only reason Yoochun lazily opened his eyes, rolling onto his back. He briefly wondered if he was dead. That fact was soon dismissed when Junsu refused to let him go back to sleep.
The house stood, its floorboards creaking as a strong wind blew against the open doors. He reached out and wiped a dark line of soot from Junsu's nose.
"Hey Sunshine boy."
"Hey, yourself." He paused, his hand rubbing small circles around the hole in Yoochun’s threadbare shirt. "Are you, you know, alright?"
"Well, you did stab me in the back, Junsu-ow!" He recoiled from Junsu’s uppercut.
The only evidence that a fire had ever been in the house was a bloody stain under Yoochun’s left shoulder blade, but that, too, had nearly been erased. The crimson mark was the only reminder Junsu needed. It had happened.
And he was sure they had been saved by the most unlikely person.
Unsure of how to word his question, Junsu hesitated. His hands all the while busy tracing patterns in the wood below. "Do you think she was trying to apologize?"
"I think she was sick of how stupid we were."
"You made the promise up."
"Hey, but I broke it too, didn't I?" Yoochun smiled as if he had won some sort of competition.
"Yeah, you're the genius."
"All thanks to healthy eating and sunshine."
"Right."
"Both of which I get from someone called Junsu."
"I should meet this Junsu."
//
"Stop scratching. You're going to make it worse." Junsu swatted Yoochun’s hand away as he continued to tend to the forming scar on his back. The wound had closed up, but a few days after their run-in with the fire, Yoochun had torn it open again trying to move his stereo into the newly cleaned bedroom. Just as Junsu had finished dabbing the last of the alcohol on the wound, Yoochun let out something between a distraught huff and a laugh.
"Not when I have nurse Junsu here." Again with the scratching.
He simply rolled his eyes, catching a glimpse of the ceiling fan before focusing on Yoochun’s back. His right index finger poked against one of the man's more sensitive ticklish spots under his ribs, causing him to fidget again. "Hey, what did I just say about scratching?"
"But it hurts."
"Here," Junsu tossed a shirt in Yoochun's lap, "I'll be right back.”
Yoochun continued to scratch at the wound until Junsu reentered a tray of turkey, ham and cheese sandwiches in hand. Some unmistakably green tinted the bread a sort of hazy yellow color. He eyed the food suspiciously.
"Is it poisoned?"
"No. Eat." Junsu pushed a corner of the sandwich into Yoochun's mouth, the later obediently biting it.
"Hey, this is good! Why have I been cooking this whole time?"
"You never asked."
"I think from now on, you should wear the apron."
"But you look so good in it." Yoochun seemed to take that as a compliment.
Junsu stole the sandwich taking a bite and pretending not to notice the pout on Yoochun's face. "Here, finish it."
"Promise to cook?"
"No more promises."
"Is that a yes?"
"Buy me a blue apron."
The End.
He didn't see why Yoochun would have need for a humidifier when he smoked at least four cigarettes a day. Really, it was unhealthy.
Then again, the whole mess of an apartment was unhealthy. As he wiped his dripping forehead off with a spare shirt, the memory of Yoochun’s "wake-up call" that morning came flooding back to his mind.
//
Junsu twisted in the sheets, searching for something outside of his blood filled dreams, something tangible. Something... that wasn't grabbing his ass.
He felt the hand on his back fall alongside the other hand, arching his back into the form next to him.
Without opening his eyes, he already knew his answer. "Yoochun, what are you doing?"
"Oh, I was having a bad dream."
"So why are you grabbing my ass?"
He opened one eye, making a face at the other man.
"I was afraid it was gone. Don't worry, it's still there." With one final squeeze, the smile on his face turned into pain as a certain hand came into contact with his face, knocking him backwards almost off the bed.
//
He turned to face the cold on his cheek. Yoochun was dressed in that silly apron again, holding a can of soda to Junsu's cheek. "Here."
Junsu took the drink, quenching his thirst and trying to cool himself down. "Why do you have that on?"
"Well, I'm pretending to cook for you. And it helps me get into cleaning the kitchen."
"You're cleaning the kitchen?"
"Yes. And maybe the bathroom next."
"Hopefully not in that apron."
"Oh?"
"You pretend to cook in it, remember?" He doesn't give Yoochun a chance to answer, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Thanks for helping."
Yoochun smiled. "We're cleaning my mess."
A few ashes landed on the floor below Yoochun from the end of his cigarette. Junsu made a face.
"Are you trying to kill us both? What if the whole building catches on fire because of those?" He brushed the ashes away with his hand. "And why do you have a humidifier under your desk?"
"I figured that one day, someone would need it."
"So that's why you have all those games in the closet..."
"No, that's just unmarked porn."
Junsu could only stare.
"You act like you've never watched it before."
No response.
"...Damn."
"Shut up."
"Well, I just never-"
"Lalala~"
"You should let me kiss you right now."
"Once is enough. And your breath stinks right now."
"Lips." Yoochun puckered his lips, closed his eyes, and waited for Junsu to move in.
Junsu stared at Yoochun in disbelief. Once second Yoochun was a perverted creep and the next he was acting like a cute dandy boy. So while Yoochun's eyes were still closed, he got up and walked out of the room.
"Junsuuuu!" Yoochun whined, hanging onto the door's frame as Junsu continued to ignore him.
"I think the laundry should be done."
Yoochun made various sounds of protest from the bedroom door, sliding down the frame in faux-desperation. He landed on the floor with a soft plop, and decided to lie down in the doorway. "Oh, I've been abandoned. I think might just - oh!"
Junsu ignored Yoochun's fake fainting, stepped over the man, and pulled the sheets of the bed to put it in the next laundry load. He ignored any cries of 'Oh, I'm dying!' to 'I need the kiss of life!' and stepped out of the room.
The sounds of Yoochun’s apparent anguish followed Junsu down the short hall way, only pausing for the beep of the dryer. Yoochun let out one last 'Junsu-yah!' before giving way to a fit of laughter. He laid there, eyes closed and defeated.
Needless to say, Yoochun was surprised to feel a pair of soft lips cushion against his own.
"If you're done, I could really use your help."
Without a second thought, Yoochun grinned, letting Junsu pull him up from the floor.
//
Yoochun wiped the sweat from his forehead, finishing up the chores Junsu left for him (“These are the easy ones, so get them done!”). Checking his watch, he noticed there was still time to catch Junsu at work. He took off his apron - because no, he didn't take it off when Junsu had asked - and headed for the shower.
Housework actually made one sweat a lot more than expected, so Yoochun found relief in the relatively cool water.
He watched from a crack in a door as shadows and ghosts of whispers reached his ears. Ever so often, he would dive behind the doorframe when a pair of labored footsteps came closer. Now, he had the perfect view: two people - his brother and a stranger.
"So that's a deal." His brother’s voice was filled with too much delight for his own comfort.
"If what you told me is true, yes."
They walked towards the door and Yoochun made an effort to have it seem like he was just walking by. His brother eyed him strangely before walking the other way. "You know the way out."
The stranger, who Yoochun could now see was an old woman, nodded and walked towards Yoochun. Their eyes met, she stared and looked back in the direction his brother left. She seemed relieved when she saw no one there and turned back to Yoochun, "Your promise will be the death of you."
"What?"
Yoochun awoke with a start, the cold shower tiles waking him from his dream. That woman-he was sure it was the same one he had seen the night before. A feeling of dread churned in his stomach with the eggs and toast he had made that morning, and he barely caught his balance as he struggled to get dressed; Junsu could yell at him later for not drying his hair first.
The line for the cafe seemed longer than he remembered (when was the last time he had stopped in for coffee?) and there was one less white apron running from the tables to the backroom.
"Excuse me," Yoochun grabbed the hem of a taller man's shirt sleeve, green eyes blinking curiously at him. "Hi, is Junsu here?"
"He was here earlier, but-"
"Do you know where he went?"
The waiter, too afraid of the frantic man in front of him, pointed to the road branching off in front of the cafe.
YooChun was about to head in that direction when he thought he saw the old woman - the same one from his vision. She was at the corner of the next block. He chased after her, but somehow he would always be two steps behind. He continued to follow the flashes of tattered black and green fabric, the buildings getting smaller and smaller - less complex. Yoochun noticed that this was leading him into less populated areas, following each glimpse of the woman he saw.
He stopped abruptly at a corner. Did he lose her? For an old hag, she had some serious stamina. He scanned the blocks around him. There was no way this was simply a coincidence. He might have attributed it to that before he met Junsu, but after all that had happened, he no longer believed in ‘just accidents.’ The old lady had to be a connection to their past. One glimpse of her graying hair and she disappeared once again. There was no doubt in YooChun’s mind that this apparition held the answers to their past.
YooChun was startled when the old woman appeared right in front of him, staring him in the eye. She was whispering something, and Yoochun had to bend down lower to hear. Her whisper was almost inaudible: "Your promise will be the death of you."
He was about to ask for an explanation when she covered his ears with her hands. Everything became muted.
"If my brother makes any such vow - I want it to end. You will receive your payment."
He isn't answered, so he continues, "So it's a deal."
"If what you told me is true, yes."
//
She watched from a distance as the happenings unfolded. Junsu's hand moved the knife in Yoochun. She couldn't hear what they were saying from where she was, but Yoochun was talking, holding onto Junsu's hand. Junsu's back was to her, but his figure was shaking as the dagger drove deeper.
'That promise killed them.'
His skin crawled at the sight of his blood pouring so mercilessly from his body, almost as if he could feel the phantom blade penetrating his flesh. No such luck. He let out a raged breath as the woman's grasp on his head released. Once again, he found himself asking the same question.
"Where is Junsu?" Her expression softened, but she shook her head. He felt his anger spark as she moved backwards, her feet seeming to glide along the pavement. "Where is he?"
The growl seemed to echo from deep within him, he was on the verge of hurting this woman as she raised a long, pointed finger in his direction. He turned, following her directions, and saw a small, two-story house, elegant yet over grown with time. A “For Sale” sign stuck precariously up from a garden of weeds. He knew from the rush of chilled air ghosting along his cheek that the woman had disappeared again, but he dared not turn around. A strangled cry seemed to escape through the broken upstairs window blinds, a cry he had never heard, but knew automatically the person whom the voice belonged to.
The stairs seemed to fly behind him in twos until he reached the topmost room, a small attic-like enclosure, tattered, cheap wallpaper and wooden floors that creaked with each unsure step. In the corner of the room, facing away from him, a form cradled itself against a forgotten bookcase.
“Junsu-"
"Don't come near me!"
The scream pierced his heart more than anything he had heard before. Junsu seemed to war with himself silently, every few seconds letting out a strangled, high note of pain.
“Why are you here? What’s wrong? Was it ChangMin?” With each question, YooChun took a step forward, only stopping when the man on the floor slammed a fist into the crackling wallpaper.
"Step back, Yoochun."
Junsu seemed to have won over his inner demon as he stood unsteadily using the bookcase as a crutch.
"Junsu, tell me how to help..."
"I can't control it, Yoochun-" Something fell to the floor, forming a small pool on the oak. Tears and blood mixed to stain the wood as Junsu pulled a small matchbook from his pocket, his other hand firmly grasping his own bleeding flesh. Beside himself at the sight, Yoochun took two steps back before falling to the floor, eyes wide. This wasn't the man he knew.
In one, twitching movement, Junsu scraped the match against the rough paper, its flame flickering to life. Yoochun watched the scene unfurl in slow motion. He was helpless to catch the match before it hit the ground, Junsu's hand shaking against its own will as it uncurled around the tiny match. Within seconds, the flame jumped to the peeling wallpaper, feeding on it with a raging hunger. The faint smell of gasoline floated up from the floor below.
"We have to go! Junsu-"
Yoochun stood on shaking legs, his vision blurring as the pictures on the wall curled and turned to ashes, half of the room covered in a wave of flames. His plea went unheard. Junsu let out one last scream before falling back to the ground, the matchbook hitting the floor. His eyes iced over in a cold, unfeeling gaze as he rose from the ground once more. All evidence of the Junsu he knew was gone, something inhuman in his place.
Junsu lunged, aiming a punch at Yoochun’s head, but the taller dodged the blow, grabbing that hand in his only to realize the blood flowing from Junsu's hand cloaked a long, thin, broken shard of glass. He winced, letting go of the hand. The cut on his hand didn't register in his mind as he watched Junsu’s blood pool at his feet.
"Junsu, we need to get you bandaged-"
"You and your promises." Junsu lunged again, this time, barely missing Yoochun’s throat. "Why did you make me promise?!"
Now, the flames had encompassed the entire room, flames erupting from the wooden beams below their feet. Something fell behind him, feeding the flames, but Yoochun didn't have time to think as Junsu threw his weight at Yoochun, knocking them both to the floor. The glass knife at his throat, Yoochun barely had the strength to hold it away.
"This isn't you, Junsu! You can fight it!"
"No, I can't." Junsu's voice was breaking. It was then that Yoochun could see the tears glistening in his eyes. The shard cut into the exposed flesh of his neck, threatening to cut him open in one swift blow, Yoochun’s grip on his attacker, his Junsu, slipping. Tears fell as Junsu pleaded, "If you kill me first, you can get away."
The wooden floor creaked in response, a part of it collapsing under the weight of the spreading fire.
"I could never kill you, Junsu. I love you!" With all his strength, Yoochun pushed Junsu off of him, pulling the shorter man up with him as he stood. A flash of crimson and the glass pierced his back in a feeble attempt to kill him. A deep, painful growl reverberated through his chest, his body slouching into Junsu’s. He could take it, if only for a few minutes. And right then, he made a decision.
"I-I don't love you." He closed his eyes, the pain taking over his thoughts, and concentrated on his words. "I don't love you. I just want us to get out, Junsu. If forgetting me means we - you - get to live. Then I don't have to love you."
The knife in his back twisted, pulling another scream from him. He felt his vision blur with tears, but the tears that fell came from above him. As he lifted his head from Junsu's chest, he could feel the shard fall from the bleeding hands and could see his pain mirrored in Junsu's gaze. Junsu's arms encircled Yoochun’s wounded back, careful of the blood clotting just below his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Yoochun." The malice that had been in his eyes disappeared completely, leaving only the man he knew. Junsu’s shoulders heaved with each strangled breath. He was surprised to feel Yoochun’s shoulders shaking as well. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, just," he pushed away from Junsu's embrace, laughter shining in the corners of his eyes. "Can we make out after we're out of the burning house?"
“Park Yoochun, I can’t believe you still have the time to make jokes at a time like this.” He looked around, worried. There wasn't a visible exit in sight. Were they destined to suffer the same fate in this lifetime also? The weight of Yoochun's body against him caught his attention. He laughed bitterly. "That is so like you, falling asleep on me."
Junsu pulled Yoochun's body closer, deciding to carry the man on his back. He tried to move quickly, but that was hard considering the unsteady floor and closed exits (And if they lived, he swore he would never let YooChun near another doughnut again). He was making his way through a hallway when he thought he saw something, so he took a step back. In the middle of what looked like a portion of living room, there was an elderly woman - the same one he saw in his vision. 'But that's impossible'.
"We have to get out of here!"
She didn't seem to hear him, staying still. Junsu was about to yell once more when her hand moved, motioning him towards her. His legs moved on their own as he made his way into the room. 'No! No, we have to get out of here.'
The room flashed a bright white that made Junsu want to cover his eyes with his hands had he not been holding Yoochun. Then there was nothing. It was a peaceful sort of nothing, all color drained for the lifeless world.
A hand waved over a boiling concoction. "Long as this promise lasts, so will this curse be cast."
'Just as ordered.'
//
'There has to be a warning.'
//
"Your promise will be the death of you."
//
"Please?"
"Okay, now what am I promising?"
"Never to leave me."
"I'm not--"
"Stop whining and do it!"
"Fine. I promise"
//
"That promise killed them."
"You don't need that promise." Her voice was strong and clear, different from the visions.
Another flash of white and there was a Park Yoochun next to him on the floor, trying not to wake up, mumbling something about wanting five more minutes of sleep maybe. Junsu laughed and noticed that the pain in his sides was gone, as if they were just a phantom pain he thought up. He touched the stained spot on Yoochun's back - it was nothing more than dried blood now.
"Hey, stop that tickles."
"Yoochun, are you okay? Get up."
The smell of burnt wood was the only reason Yoochun lazily opened his eyes, rolling onto his back. He briefly wondered if he was dead. That fact was soon dismissed when Junsu refused to let him go back to sleep.
The house stood, its floorboards creaking as a strong wind blew against the open doors. He reached out and wiped a dark line of soot from Junsu's nose.
"Hey Sunshine boy."
"Hey, yourself." He paused, his hand rubbing small circles around the hole in Yoochun’s threadbare shirt. "Are you, you know, alright?"
"Well, you did stab me in the back, Junsu-ow!" He recoiled from Junsu’s uppercut.
The only evidence that a fire had ever been in the house was a bloody stain under Yoochun’s left shoulder blade, but that, too, had nearly been erased. The crimson mark was the only reminder Junsu needed. It had happened.
And he was sure they had been saved by the most unlikely person.
Unsure of how to word his question, Junsu hesitated. His hands all the while busy tracing patterns in the wood below. "Do you think she was trying to apologize?"
"I think she was sick of how stupid we were."
"You made the promise up."
"Hey, but I broke it too, didn't I?" Yoochun smiled as if he had won some sort of competition.
"Yeah, you're the genius."
"All thanks to healthy eating and sunshine."
"Right."
"Both of which I get from someone called Junsu."
"I should meet this Junsu."
//
"Stop scratching. You're going to make it worse." Junsu swatted Yoochun’s hand away as he continued to tend to the forming scar on his back. The wound had closed up, but a few days after their run-in with the fire, Yoochun had torn it open again trying to move his stereo into the newly cleaned bedroom. Just as Junsu had finished dabbing the last of the alcohol on the wound, Yoochun let out something between a distraught huff and a laugh.
"Not when I have nurse Junsu here." Again with the scratching.
He simply rolled his eyes, catching a glimpse of the ceiling fan before focusing on Yoochun’s back. His right index finger poked against one of the man's more sensitive ticklish spots under his ribs, causing him to fidget again. "Hey, what did I just say about scratching?"
"But it hurts."
"Here," Junsu tossed a shirt in Yoochun's lap, "I'll be right back.”
Yoochun continued to scratch at the wound until Junsu reentered a tray of turkey, ham and cheese sandwiches in hand. Some unmistakably green tinted the bread a sort of hazy yellow color. He eyed the food suspiciously.
"Is it poisoned?"
"No. Eat." Junsu pushed a corner of the sandwich into Yoochun's mouth, the later obediently biting it.
"Hey, this is good! Why have I been cooking this whole time?"
"You never asked."
"I think from now on, you should wear the apron."
"But you look so good in it." Yoochun seemed to take that as a compliment.
Junsu stole the sandwich taking a bite and pretending not to notice the pout on Yoochun's face. "Here, finish it."
"Promise to cook?"
"No more promises."
"Is that a yes?"
"Buy me a blue apron."
The End.