Pairing: Yoosu (Jaeho)
Section Rating: R
Overall Rating: NC-17
i still hold ranalore responsible for this mess.
This is a short section. Better to have posted short than not to have posted at all.
Synopsis: A continuation of the relationship between Yoochun and Junsu from So Much Mine. Once again, hot pretty boys, music, dancing and sex. Not necessarily in that order.
One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight
Whore was a label Yunho knew all too well. Jaejoong whispered it in the dark, a word hidden among the razors of his mind. The leader heard it break Jae’s spirit, a patchwork rag doll of a soul, limbs attached with wide stitches of yarn spun from a young man’s tears. The Jaejoong Yunho knew lived in the darkness, unseeing embroidered eyes ravaged from the dirt of uncaring hands, smears of oil and spit left in the crevices of fabric’s weave.
That doll was who remained behind with Junsu, carved free from Jae’s belly and dripping with the blood of his hard-earned healing. Changmin… the scalpel that hacked the cloth puppet free of its fleshed cradle … sat sullen and worried on the edge of his bed.
Yunho pulled a chair close, the rolling casters of its feet squeaking on the wooden floor. Rubbing at his tired face, the leader sighed heavy, his breath hot against the mons of his palms. Resigned, the leader clasped his hands on his legs, pulling it until his knees straddled the youngest’s limbs.
Keeping his head down, Yunho wasn’t sure where to start or even what to say. He’d always thought he would have these kinds of conversations later in life, with his own children. Now, giving his relationship with Jaejoong, he was thinking that if children were going to be a part of any life he had, they would come from someone else’s womb, perhaps a little girl so he could avoid these kinds of arguments. The fumbling discussions he’d had with his own father left him with little ground to maneuver on. Yunho’s relationship with his mother was more stable to fall upon but now with their unraveling relationship, the leader wasn’t sure if anything she said to guide him was worth speaking, soiled with the petty hatred of the lover he’d chosen.
“I’m sorry, hyung.” Changmin’s voice reverberated with respect, remorse clouding the low tones of his words. His head bowed deep. The pit of his stomach grew demons, armed with pitchforks used to stab at the tender bits of his guts.
He’d argued with his mother before…hit his sisters…even exchanged heated words with the other members but the bilious sting left in his mouth when he’d faced Jaejoong and threw the other’s past into his face…. Changmin didn’t think he would ever wash out the rotted stagnant green from his tongue. Fouled and fermented, it bubbled back, just enough taste of herbaceous acid that Changmin believed it would flavour everything he said from this point on.
“Sorry.” Yunho finally looked up, dark eyes flat with disbelief. The leader couldn’t find the edge of his anger. It circled around, a wall built solid from the pain in Jaejoong’s eyes. Yet the man-child he was responsible for held as much pain in his face, both perceived and real. Setting aside the image of his lover, Yunho instead concentrated on the singer that stood in front of the group, fierce and fragile both, a dichotomy of personalities melded into one young man.
“I admit Jaejoong probably overstepped a bit.” Yunho conceded softly, a sniffle rising from Changmin’s unseen face. “There are…reasons for it. Probably reasons you don’t know about and really… I’m not going to share with you.”
“Why?” The tilt of the youngest’s chin came up, still defiant and caustic. “Because I’m too young?”
“Yeah, because you’re too young.” Yunho admitted. “Because Jaejoong doesn’t have secrets… he has wounds. And they bleed every single night when he falls asleep. Because he would sometimes bite down on his own tongue instead of waking up screaming from his nightmares when we all shared a room. Not because he was ashamed… because he is deeply ashamed… but because he didn’t want to wake you.”
“That’s the silliest thing about this, Minnie-ah...” The leader leaned in, careful not to box the young man in but still, needing to be able to touch Changmin’s legs, or brush against the other’s hands. “Jaejoong has always thought of you instead of himself when he cries.”
“You’ve not seen him spit out mouthfuls of blood while brushing his teeth because his back molars are sharp and he’s got shreds of skin hanging from the inside of his cheek.” Yunho cocked his head, watching the young man’s still face. “Boo cries less now… and I’m hoping that’s because I’m there to hold him when faces come at him from the past… but he still wakes up frightened some nights… or fighting. I’m surprised I don’t have a black eye some mornings.”
“I’m not going to share with you what haunts Jaejoong because those are his nightmares, not mine. He’s only ever wanted you have a chance at being able to love someone without worrying about being considered filth because of it. He loves you that much, Min. Too much, I think because he worries himself sick over you.”
The leader paused, trying to get his emotions steadied before continuing. “Our Jaejoong wants more for you than what he was ever allowed to have. Even the heartbreak that you feel should be your own and not an echo of something he had to endure. So tell me, Changmin, what now? What do I do with an apology that isn’t even mine?”
“What do I tell him, hyung?” Changmin finally spoke, subdued and with a tint of fierceness that made Yunho smile.
“Truth? Tell him what you would tell yourself.” Yunho suggested. “The two of you are a lot alike in some ways. You both are fairly quiet unless you know someone well, although Boo does wander in his thoughts more than you do. He’s a dreamer where you’re more serious but I think that’s because that’s where Jaejoong lives… in his head.”
“That doesn’t make much sense, Yunho.” Min said.
“I think Joongie-ah spent a lot of time…dreaming that he was in a better place.. or having a better life.” Yunho replied. He often let Jaejoong ramble while they lay in bed, just listening to the other’s crooked train of thought, a half-heard conversation with his own soul…usually forgetting that there were other ears listening in. “I think Jae used to use his imagination to give himself… family to come home to or friends that loved him without judgment. Sometimes I wonder if Jae thinks he’s gone insane and the life he’s living is something his cracked mind constructed because he doesn’t want to see what’s really there.”
“I just needed…to see…” The younger man pulled his feet up, sitting cross-legged on the bed. Pushing at the mop of hair in his face, Changmin struggled to form words from the chaos in his mind. “I’m in love with Junsu, hyung.”
“Shit.” Yunho choked on the word. “You’re too…”
“Young?” Changmin lifted his eyebrows, his temper lifting its head, a dragon with a smoldering breath. “I’m old enough to know how I feel and what I want.”
“It’s not that wanting, Changmin.” Yunho said. “It’s the doing and whether or not what you feel is real… real for that person.”
“How do you know that what you felt for Jaejoong was real?” Min turned the conversation over. “Was it because you fought it? Maybe I’m Jaejoong in this and Junsu is you…fighting and refusing to admit that he feels attracted to me.”
“Trust me, Changmin. From what I could see of Junsu, he was quite…attracted to you.” Yunho snorted. “I’m not saying sex isn’t nice…because it is. But love? Having sex with someone won’t make them love you.”
“Even if you’re good friends, you’ll be nothing more than a substitute for his hand… just warmer and moister…and moving. Usually a man has two hands, Changmin, if one becomes too difficult, he always can find another.”
Changmin gasped, his face hot with shock. Yunho nodded at the young man’s expression, canting his head as the other pulled air back into his body. “If that surprised you, then you’re not even close to ready to talk to Jaejoong about how he used to live.”
“How do I apologize to hyung when I don’t want him to keep poking into my life?” Changmin protested softly. “I’m sorry for what I said…I am… but sometimes Jaejoong is in the middle of something when I want him on the side. I never wanted to hurt him, hyung, I just wanted some… distance from his love.”
“You apologize to the hyung that made sure you drank enough liquids when you were sick or called your mother when you needed her but were too proud to do so yourself. Even the hyung who gives you his jacket to put over yours when it’s snowing on a photo shoot…and you take it even when you know he hates being cold.” Yunho looked thoughtful. “Or maybe even the hyung who puts aside sweet coconut rice for you when we get it in our lunches and you’re not there…because it’s your favourite and he can give it to you later.”
“If you’re going to let Jaejoong love you enough to meddle in your life when it’s to your advantage, you also have to let him do it when you hate him for it.” The leader leaned back in his chair, looking deep into Changmin’s face. “You can’t have him only half in your life, dongsaeng. I won’t let you hurt him like that. He’s had enough shit in his life…he doesn’t need yours as well.”
“Did you get a hold of that whore?” Jung’s voice startled the woman sitting at the window, her tea left forgotten on the table in front of her. “Is he going to leave our son alone?”
“I didn’t hear you come in, husband.” Mrs. Jung patted at the powder of her makeup, wondering if the shock of hearing Yunho’s voice somehow cracked the polish of her face. “The Kim boy didn’t answer the phone. Yunho did.”
Jung hissed his exasperation, striding to the sideboard to pour himself a cup of oolong, the tea leaves steeping the water nearly black with a smoky bitterness. Sitting at the table, he stared down into the pile of pictures fanned out over the tablecloth, happy male faces wrapped up in their own world.
He knew the whore’s every feature, the slender body and delicate skin. Too pretty to ever be called masculine, Kim Jaejoong invoked a strong disgust in Jung’s mind, a sourness that pervaded his love for his son. Each passing day that Yunho spent apart from his family distanced his heir from ever returning home, severed from the bloodline that cradled him in his infancy and would have benefited from his success as they entered their zenith. The circle of the Jung family had been broken under the wickedness of the Kim boy and Jung became more determined to break the whore’s grip on his son.
Calls to the entertainment company proved fruitless. It was as if a family’s needs meant nothing to the machine that Yunho pulled forward, yoked to a lumbering mechanical beast, uncaring and metallic in its response. Their manager refused to listen to reason, even when Jung threatened the company with the law, assigning responsibility for the debauched lifestyle his son was exposed to in training.
“An adult.” Jung snorted derisively. “He’s a fool.”
“The other boy…this Park Yoochun.” Yunho’s mother tapped a picture of Micky, his chest bare to the sun as he lay on a rock besides an equally unclothed Jaejoong. “Do you think that he’s a … part of this? That he’s responsible for Yunho’s…”
They sat nearly shoulder to shoulder in many of the pictures, often leaning into each other or sharing a light kiss. The easy laughter on their faces shone under the bright sunlight, Jaejoong’s muscled stomach glistening with sun tan oil. Park Yoochun touched the other often, the photographer capturing nearly every caress with a steady precision. She was certain that the photos taken that afternoon showed more affection between the two immoral young men than most couples ever shared over the course of their entire marriage.
“Did you tell our son that his whore has another lover?” Jung asked suddenly, his teacup halfway to his lips. “Does he know we have these pictures showing Kim’s promiscuity?”
“I was surprised to hear his voice.” She admitted softly. Nothing hurt more than the echo of her son’s coldness in her ears. She missed the smiling, laughing little boy who would toddle after her on fat legs, always running to see what was over a hill or watching with fascination at the birds flying in the sky. Ever since Yunho could see something in the distance, everything became a goal and it was to be gotten at any price. She encouraged that, hoping the determination she nurtured would bring him success.
Now it brought her son ruin, his mind set on loving another man.
She could barely meet her friends’ eyes, lying with a smile when they asked after Yunho or marveled at how successful the group had become. They couldn’t hear the grit of her teeth when they brought up Kim Jaejoong, the pretty young enigma often seated just within reaching distance of her son’s wandering hands.
“I didn’t tell him.” Yunho’s mother shook her head, a fragile frown between her eyes. “I couldn’t, Jung. We agreed that we would approach Kim about the other man. If the company won’t help us, we need to somehow pry him from Yunho’s side but without telling him. Kim will have to leave him on his own. Yunho will not stand infidelity. He would beat that boy to death if he found out.”
“I would tell Yunho just to make that happen.” Jung swore as he sipped at the hot bitter tea. “I’ll see if I can get a hold of Kim myself. I’ll show him the photos and tell him to leave our Yunho alone. If he doesn’t, then I don’t care what happens to Yunho’s little singing hobby. I’ll give the photos to the media and let SM Entertainment deal with it. I want my son back and I’m not going to let some…filthy deviant take him from his family. ”