Chapter One-The Nightmare.
Title: Mischief Deities
Length: Chapters.
Author: Xiao Jia and yummyfruit
Rating: PG13
Genre: agnst, humor, romance, suspense.
Summary: Five singers. Five sons. Two lovers. One fire.
To those of you out there who don't believe in love...
Kim Jaejoong and Jung Yunho had everything against them. One, they're both boys. Two, Jaejoong's parents would go to all ends to separate the two. But what started as a typical battle between teenage love and the opposition of the elders ended up involving a murder that roots back to the glory days of the previous generation. But Jaejoong and Yunho are not alone in their journey; always by their sides are three best friends who will literally limp around the entire city on a broken leg just to collect paper hearts in the altruistic goal to wake Jaejoong up from his dangerous coma that almost cost Yunho his own health. What happens when Jaejoong remembers something from the past that might break down everything he and Yunho had built together? Why do Jaejoong's parents disapprove of Yunho, and only Yunho? What is the connection between their parents? In a society where love between boys are forbidden, will these two "best friends" overcome all the obstacles? Featuring the DBSK boys, this story is a dramatic narrative of love, friendship, and family, and how, sometimes, it takes love to hate, and vice versa. Enjoy.
first chapter! yay! enjoy! oh yeah, by the way, if you think this is gonna go on to become a pink and fluffy lovey-dovey yunjae story with plenty comical moments from yoominsu... well you're right. but if you think that's all.... ahem, all i can tell you is you've gotta keep reading to the end of the story. haha but don't worry about that now, this is only the beginning.
Chapter 1 - The Nightmare
I had the dream again. What a killer room. Crammed full with the latest toys and car models. In my dream, Yunho and I were playing that racecar video game. “Aah! You beat me again,” he whined in the dream. I grinned at him and said, “Yunho, your turns are too fast, that’s why you’re always crashing into the cones.” He pouted. We were both 9 years old, back when he was still my next-door neighbor. Back when I still lived on Sarang Street. It was a fun-filled childhood. Everyday afterschool I’d hang out at Yunho’s house. Sarang Street was pretty weird. We were the only kids in the neighborhood, and the houses came in all different shapes and sizes. Oddly, they were just placed one after another. My old house was just a bit more decent than a shack while his was a mansion, with a 4-car garage and a playground in his backyard that his parents were nice enough to make public for any kid who wanted to play on it. Monkey bars. Swings. Slide. The whole shebang. Basically, it was our kingdom, Yunho and I, because there were no other kids in the neighborhood.
Suddenly, the mood of my dream changed. This wasn’t the first time it’s happening. Out of nowhere, Yunho’s room window cracked, then, SHAAAX!! it shattered into a million pieces. Give or take a couple hundred shards that flew at us like deadly bullets. One was pointed straight at Yunho’s chest. “Duck Yunho!” I didn’t need to tell him twice. He quickly flopped on his belly, just when the sharp piece of glass grazed the ends of his hair. Panting, he made to crawl over to where I was sprawled. I stretched my arm towards him. “C’mon! Take my hand! I think it’s a tornado!”
B-B-BOOM!! The house growled and trembled like my dad when he saw my report card. Ok, the house was just a bit worse.
Yunho’s hand never even touched my fingertips. Just when he was about to grab my hand, the whole house tipped over to one side, and Yunho’s whole body just... rolled. Away from me. I only caught the stunned look in his eyes before he rolled right out the broken window. Gone. There was only his blood leftover on some of the sharp parts of what’s left of the window. The house tipped back onto level ground, but everything outside was just a massive blur. I was right. It was a giant tornado, and it was right outside the window, where Yunho fell out.
“YUNHO!!” But I saw the fuzzy image of his body spinning in the tornado, high above me, above the roof of the house. I think he was screaming, but the wind’s cacophonous chorus was so chaotic. I picked up traces of my best friend’s voice. “Jae... oong! ....on’t... eave.... eeeeeee!!” Somehow, since this was after all a dream, I was able to tell what he was shouting. “Jaejoong! Don’t leave meeeee!!”
But things were out of my control. The tornado spun faster and moved on, sliding to the right, bringing Yunho with him. No! Yunho! Come back! Come back!
“COME BACK YUNHO!!” I sat up screaming, sweat dripping down my burning face. Oh wait. That one was a tear. I was still crying. “Come back...” my mouth was still muttering from the momentum of my previous shout, but I quickly realized there never was a tornado. Just the same nightmare that I’ve already had four times this week. The exact same nightmare.
By breakfast, the effects of my nightmare had already worn off. I was eating some toast across the table from my never-smiling parents. “Have you packed your backpack for tomorrow?” dad's gruff voice floated over his morning paper, his face entirely hidden by the grim front page ("TWO TEENAGERS KILLED IN LOCAL HURRICANE"). Today was the last day of summer vacation. I had to spend the entire three months studying, especially since I was a rising senior. Yep, 18 years old. The “difficult age,” as my mother would always spitefully say whenever I do something she doesn’t approve, like putting socks in the underwear drawer. Yeah. Kill me now.
“Yes. It’s all ready," I replied stiffly. Dad nodded seriously, as if he was the general of a soldier (me) getting ready for some kind of world war. Wiping their mouths, they rose and, like robots, picked up their respective bags. “We’re off to work. Don’t forget to do the laundry, dishes, and vacuum the rooms,” umma ordered with her hand on the doorknob. “Ok. Bye.” After the garage door closed, I sighed into my plate. I’m not complaining about the chores. I mean, considering I have until seven in the evening to myself, they won’t take up all of my time. It’s just that sometimes I wish those two people I call “umma” and “appa” could be a bit more... well... umma-ish and appa-ish.
Peacefully chewing on my toast, I looked out the window at the trees outside. This house was bigger (and much more expensive) than my old house on Sarang Street, the one next to Yunho’s old house before he moved. Speaking of Yunho...
Images of the nightmare flashed before my eyes. Goosebumps appeared on my arms as I recalled that one particular feeling when Yunho rolled away from sight and got picked up by that monstrous tornado to who knows where. He was my childhood best friend, but he moved away when we were both nine. I hate to be cynical, but when two little friends go out of touch for nine years (we’re both 18 now), you kinda just put that person in the corner or a storage box in your mind. Honestly, up until just this week when those nightmares started, I’ve completely forgotten about that boy who used to invite me over to his place to play. Even more shameful of me is that I remember more of this awesome house than him. I could still tell you, even now, which games and toys and model cars he had on which shelf in his room.
But I can’t tell you what Yunho’s face looked like. Oh well, no need to feel bad about that, it’s not like he’s coming back. I vaguely remembered that his parents had died in a boating accident and he had to go live with his aunt or something like that. Hm, poor kid.
But then again, that feeling I distinctly felt towards HIM in the nightmare. When the house tipped over and all his shelves crashed, I didn’t care one bit about the shattered toys. Instead, I had cried and shouted and panicked for HIM. No no no. What was so unusual about that? Of course I’d worry about a fellow human being instead of materialistic things. Duh.
I swallowed my bite of toast. But then again, that feeling of loss and... how do I put it... lack of control... was unusually strong...
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Why was I even killing brain cells over this? It was just a nightmare. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again. It’s not like he’s a big part of my life. It’s not like the nightmare will actually come true...
=====================
Ch. 2 coming up soon!
Length: Chapters.
Author: Xiao Jia and yummyfruit
Rating: PG13
Genre: agnst, humor, romance, suspense.
Summary: Five singers. Five sons. Two lovers. One fire.
To those of you out there who don't believe in love...
Kim Jaejoong and Jung Yunho had everything against them. One, they're both boys. Two, Jaejoong's parents would go to all ends to separate the two. But what started as a typical battle between teenage love and the opposition of the elders ended up involving a murder that roots back to the glory days of the previous generation. But Jaejoong and Yunho are not alone in their journey; always by their sides are three best friends who will literally limp around the entire city on a broken leg just to collect paper hearts in the altruistic goal to wake Jaejoong up from his dangerous coma that almost cost Yunho his own health. What happens when Jaejoong remembers something from the past that might break down everything he and Yunho had built together? Why do Jaejoong's parents disapprove of Yunho, and only Yunho? What is the connection between their parents? In a society where love between boys are forbidden, will these two "best friends" overcome all the obstacles? Featuring the DBSK boys, this story is a dramatic narrative of love, friendship, and family, and how, sometimes, it takes love to hate, and vice versa. Enjoy.
first chapter! yay! enjoy! oh yeah, by the way, if you think this is gonna go on to become a pink and fluffy lovey-dovey yunjae story with plenty comical moments from yoominsu... well you're right. but if you think that's all.... ahem, all i can tell you is you've gotta keep reading to the end of the story. haha but don't worry about that now, this is only the beginning.
Chapter 1 - The Nightmare
I had the dream again. What a killer room. Crammed full with the latest toys and car models. In my dream, Yunho and I were playing that racecar video game. “Aah! You beat me again,” he whined in the dream. I grinned at him and said, “Yunho, your turns are too fast, that’s why you’re always crashing into the cones.” He pouted. We were both 9 years old, back when he was still my next-door neighbor. Back when I still lived on Sarang Street. It was a fun-filled childhood. Everyday afterschool I’d hang out at Yunho’s house. Sarang Street was pretty weird. We were the only kids in the neighborhood, and the houses came in all different shapes and sizes. Oddly, they were just placed one after another. My old house was just a bit more decent than a shack while his was a mansion, with a 4-car garage and a playground in his backyard that his parents were nice enough to make public for any kid who wanted to play on it. Monkey bars. Swings. Slide. The whole shebang. Basically, it was our kingdom, Yunho and I, because there were no other kids in the neighborhood.
Suddenly, the mood of my dream changed. This wasn’t the first time it’s happening. Out of nowhere, Yunho’s room window cracked, then, SHAAAX!! it shattered into a million pieces. Give or take a couple hundred shards that flew at us like deadly bullets. One was pointed straight at Yunho’s chest. “Duck Yunho!” I didn’t need to tell him twice. He quickly flopped on his belly, just when the sharp piece of glass grazed the ends of his hair. Panting, he made to crawl over to where I was sprawled. I stretched my arm towards him. “C’mon! Take my hand! I think it’s a tornado!”
B-B-BOOM!! The house growled and trembled like my dad when he saw my report card. Ok, the house was just a bit worse.
Yunho’s hand never even touched my fingertips. Just when he was about to grab my hand, the whole house tipped over to one side, and Yunho’s whole body just... rolled. Away from me. I only caught the stunned look in his eyes before he rolled right out the broken window. Gone. There was only his blood leftover on some of the sharp parts of what’s left of the window. The house tipped back onto level ground, but everything outside was just a massive blur. I was right. It was a giant tornado, and it was right outside the window, where Yunho fell out.
“YUNHO!!” But I saw the fuzzy image of his body spinning in the tornado, high above me, above the roof of the house. I think he was screaming, but the wind’s cacophonous chorus was so chaotic. I picked up traces of my best friend’s voice. “Jae... oong! ....on’t... eave.... eeeeeee!!” Somehow, since this was after all a dream, I was able to tell what he was shouting. “Jaejoong! Don’t leave meeeee!!”
But things were out of my control. The tornado spun faster and moved on, sliding to the right, bringing Yunho with him. No! Yunho! Come back! Come back!
“COME BACK YUNHO!!” I sat up screaming, sweat dripping down my burning face. Oh wait. That one was a tear. I was still crying. “Come back...” my mouth was still muttering from the momentum of my previous shout, but I quickly realized there never was a tornado. Just the same nightmare that I’ve already had four times this week. The exact same nightmare.
By breakfast, the effects of my nightmare had already worn off. I was eating some toast across the table from my never-smiling parents. “Have you packed your backpack for tomorrow?” dad's gruff voice floated over his morning paper, his face entirely hidden by the grim front page ("TWO TEENAGERS KILLED IN LOCAL HURRICANE"). Today was the last day of summer vacation. I had to spend the entire three months studying, especially since I was a rising senior. Yep, 18 years old. The “difficult age,” as my mother would always spitefully say whenever I do something she doesn’t approve, like putting socks in the underwear drawer. Yeah. Kill me now.
“Yes. It’s all ready," I replied stiffly. Dad nodded seriously, as if he was the general of a soldier (me) getting ready for some kind of world war. Wiping their mouths, they rose and, like robots, picked up their respective bags. “We’re off to work. Don’t forget to do the laundry, dishes, and vacuum the rooms,” umma ordered with her hand on the doorknob. “Ok. Bye.” After the garage door closed, I sighed into my plate. I’m not complaining about the chores. I mean, considering I have until seven in the evening to myself, they won’t take up all of my time. It’s just that sometimes I wish those two people I call “umma” and “appa” could be a bit more... well... umma-ish and appa-ish.
Peacefully chewing on my toast, I looked out the window at the trees outside. This house was bigger (and much more expensive) than my old house on Sarang Street, the one next to Yunho’s old house before he moved. Speaking of Yunho...
Images of the nightmare flashed before my eyes. Goosebumps appeared on my arms as I recalled that one particular feeling when Yunho rolled away from sight and got picked up by that monstrous tornado to who knows where. He was my childhood best friend, but he moved away when we were both nine. I hate to be cynical, but when two little friends go out of touch for nine years (we’re both 18 now), you kinda just put that person in the corner or a storage box in your mind. Honestly, up until just this week when those nightmares started, I’ve completely forgotten about that boy who used to invite me over to his place to play. Even more shameful of me is that I remember more of this awesome house than him. I could still tell you, even now, which games and toys and model cars he had on which shelf in his room.
But I can’t tell you what Yunho’s face looked like. Oh well, no need to feel bad about that, it’s not like he’s coming back. I vaguely remembered that his parents had died in a boating accident and he had to go live with his aunt or something like that. Hm, poor kid.
But then again, that feeling I distinctly felt towards HIM in the nightmare. When the house tipped over and all his shelves crashed, I didn’t care one bit about the shattered toys. Instead, I had cried and shouted and panicked for HIM. No no no. What was so unusual about that? Of course I’d worry about a fellow human being instead of materialistic things. Duh.
I swallowed my bite of toast. But then again, that feeling of loss and... how do I put it... lack of control... was unusually strong...
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Why was I even killing brain cells over this? It was just a nightmare. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again. It’s not like he’s a big part of my life. It’s not like the nightmare will actually come true...
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Ch. 2 coming up soon!