this is for bardou who wanted YooSu angst.
Genre: It's complicated.
THIS IS TOTALLY AU FROM SMM. 100% off SMM. Not in any way related to So Much Mine, Lavender Bunny or anything else.
This probably will be some hardcore NC-17 or hell, maybe fluffy. I dunno.
Parts: One, Two, Three
Changmin nestled down into the enormous floor pillows he’d arranged on his living room floor. Cradling a chilled glass of Tsing Tao, he reached for the e-book reader he’d left on the cushions. A single art deco torchiere spread golden light over the young man’s lean body. Alone in the apartment, he’d pulled on only a pair of black boxer-briefs after his shower, toweling off his hair and letting it air dry.
The beer quashed any residual heat leftover in his mouth from the soondubuchigae he’d eaten for dinner. The bowl of nori-wrapped arare was salty-sweet enough to compliment the Tsing Tao’s smooth flavour and the book was interesting enough to keep his attention diverted from the heavy thoughts plaguing him.
Or so he thought.
His cell phone lay on its face, nearly buried under a pillow. He’d spent the last hour staring at it, wondering what possessed him to get involved with the emotional messes littering his life and if there was someone he could call to make it all better. No one came to mind and he’d shoved the phone nearly out of sight, hoping to stop thinking about the men who filled his thoughts.
Jinagabeorin eorin sijeoren pungseon eul tago naraganeun yeppeun kkumdo kkueotji… sang out from under the cushions, startling Min. He yelped when a cold splash of beer hit his bare stomach and icy foam caught on the trail of hair around his navel, liquid filling his belly button and sending shivers down his crotch. Holding the glass up, he flicked off as much of the beer as he could as his cell phone continued its sing-song call.
Answer it. A tiny growling voice echoed in the back of his head. Min ignored it and the voice prodded him again. You KNOW who that is.
“I don’t want to answer it.” He felt silly arguing with himself, especially when it seemed like the irrational part of his brain always seemed to have the upper hand.
You can’t possibly think I’M the irrational part. If Changmin were honest with himself… and not afraid of admitting to an impending insanity, he’d have sworn the gremlin voice sniffed. You know you want to answer it. He’s going to keep calling until you do. And one day when the phone doesn’t ring, you’re going to wonder why he stopped calling. Give in. He’s much more persistent and stubborn than you’ll ever be.
“There are times when I hate myself,” Changmin grumbled, setting down his beer. Inhaling sharply, he steeled himself for the voice on the other side of the line. “Hello?”
He acted as if nothing happened. As if nothing changed. Like there’d not been a betrayal and hot tears mingled with fierce words.
As if Min’s heart hadn’t been gutted at the sight of his maybe soon-to-be-lover’s hands on Yunho’s hips.
“Are you there?” Se7en asked. Min heard him breathing over the phone, a sigh caught in the back of his throat. “Kirinza*…”
“You don’t get to call me that,” Changmin said, his voice as hard and sharp as the pain lodged in his chest. “Stop calling me.”
“I need to see you.”
“I need to have you dying slowly of a thousand piercings of a shallow needle while being soaked in a vat of salty acid but I don’t see that happening.” Min replied. “I’ll give you what you need right after I get what I need.”
“Give me half an hour. I just want to talk to you.” Se7en said. “Just talk.”
It would have been more satisfying to hang on the man if there’d been a tincture of begging in his voice but Se7en’s smooth tone purred instead of plead, as if he had every right to demand some of Changmin’s time. A flick of his finger gave him a dial tone he listened to for a full three seconds before closing his phone. It rang again just like every night when Se7en called and Changmin hung up on him, rolling over to voice mail after a bit. He waited for the phone to ring again. Se7en could be counted on at least three voice mails before he gave up but the phone remained mute.
See, now you’re wondering why he’s not calling back. The gremlin gloated. Pretty soon, he might call every other day and you’ll be left wondering why he isn’t trying harder… or if he ever really wanted you to begin with.
“Fuck you,“ Changmin scolded himself. “He should have thought about that before he…”
Fucked Yunho? The same Yunho you’re sharing an apartment with? How is Se7en more to blame than Yunho? Why is Yunho being forgiven but not Dong-Wook?
“Because…” He didn’t have an answer. Yunho came to him, formally contrite with an apology but not an explanation. Changmin swallowed his pride and forgave the man he looked up to as an older brother. Se7en, however, was another matter.
Only because you’d sided with Yunho when the three ran away. The voice crowed. If you’d not forgiven Yunho, you wouldn’t have anyone. Admit it, you accepted Yunho’s apology because you’re a coward and afraid no one else will love you other than the members. Se7en’s only chasing after you because to him, you’re the one that got away. Once you forgive him, he’ll stop chasing you and then where will you be?
Shattered was the only word he could use to describe the feelings inside of him when he’d found out about Se7en and Yunho. Up until then, his anger and rage about the other three took up most of his heart and mind. The intense glut of hurt he’d bottled up inside of him had been washed away with a new torrent of pain, one he wasn’t certain he’d ever recover from.
A scratching noise stopped Min from replying to the smug tone of his own inner demon. When it grew louder, he frowned, wondering if the neighbour’s cat had somehow gotten into their apartment again. Placing the beer bottle on the floor, he got up to investigate.
Another shuffling sound drew him to the apartment’s front door and Min stood to watch a bundle of rose petals being shoved under the door. Wrapped tight in folds, the petals sprang open once clear of the door’s edge, their pungent fragrance releasing into the small entrance area. From the scattered piles of blood red petals, Min guessed at least five roses had been sacrificed with another packet of petals being worked under the door as he breathing in their fragrance.
“Dong-Wook?” Changmin asked, tentatively calling out to whoever was slaughtering flowers outside of his front door. He couldn’t discount a fan. Some went to extremes to show their devotion and he’d been cornered more than once before. “Gods, please let that be Dong-Wook.”
“Do you have anyone else that comes to your door to shove roses under it?” Se7en’s voice was muffled but Min could still make out his words.
“Maybe.” Changmin’s stubbornness refused to budge, even under the onslaught of perfume on his senses.
“I have carnations too,” The other man called out.
The husky growl of his voice tightened Min’s sex and desire rolled in the young man’s belly. Shushing himself, Min rolled his eyes at his inner demon cheered Se7en’s stuffing a pink carnation under the door to join the pile of rose petals. It cleared the thick wooded plank and exploded into a sweet-smelling confetti.
Stepping over the spread of petals, Min closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the door. Their battle of wills stretched, nearly six months of back and forth and standing in the middle of a growing massacre of fragrant flowers. The fatigue in his bones expanded, filling him and Changmin slid down the door, dropping to his knees.
“It hurts too much,” He whispered, a small tear running down his cheek and falling free from his face. It struck a crumpled rose petal, beading up on the wrinkled curve. “Why did you have to sleep with Yunho? Why?”
“I’m sorry, Kirinza,” Se7en said softly, rapping at the door with his knuckles. “Let me in, baby. Let me in to hold you. Let me in to say I’m sorry and kiss away your tears. I can feel you crying and it’s killing me. Please, baby, give me a chance to kiss away your tears and I promise, I’ll never make you cry again.”
Yoochun was lost in his thoughts when Jaejoong came home, barely hearing the front door close with a soft click. The singer shed his shoes by the door and padded barefoot into the living room, settling down on the couch near Yoochun’s feet. The baritone’s dark eyes were wet, shimmering and soft with pain and Jaejoong sighed heavily.
“What happened?” He asked, rubbing at Yoochun’s ankle bone with the flat of his thumb. “Where’s Susu-ah?”
“He left after I told him I wasn’t in love with him.” Yoochun whispered, rubbing at his face with the back of his hand. His eyes smarted, burnt nearly black from the salty tears he’d shed in the hour or so since Junsu shut the door behind him. “God, I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah,” Jaejoong said, playfully wincing when Yoochun kicked him. “I was just agreeing with you.”
“A true friend would deny I was an idiot.”
“A true friend doesn’t deny you’re an idiot but helps you fix what you screwed up,” Jaejoong corrected. “Where was he going?”
“I don’t know.” Yoochun shrugged. “He can barely speak Japanese well enough to order ramen. He gets drunk on half a beer so a bar is out and he won’t go to karaoke by himself. What else is there?”
“Yunho,” Jaejoong replied, mocking Yoochun’s wide eyes with a dramatic gasp. Growing serious, he continued, “Yunho is here. At the Four Seasons hotel. The big one down the road. Junsu called him.”
“Why?” Yoochun couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “Why call for him now? And why would he come after everything he’s done?”
“Jealous,” Jaejoong said.
“Both.” A helpless shrug was the only answer Jaejoong had for his brother-in-all-but-blood.
“Did you go to see him?” Yoochun hissed at Jaejoong’s telling eye-roll. “Of course, what else would you do? Of course you would go see him. He’s like a drop of water in your desert. You can’t help but go see him.”
“Only for a moment,” He confessed.
“I let him kiss me,” Jae mumbled, dropping his gaze down to the floor.
“Oh, Joongie-ah,” Yoochun sighed. “You were going to walk away from him, remember? Distance, you said. You need to be away from him. No one hurts you like he does, you said — and you went and let him kiss you? Did you kiss him back?”
“Yes,” Jaejoong grimaced then held up his hand, showing Yoochun his hand, the skin on his knuckles scraped raw and red. “Then I punched him in the mouth and walked away. I hope to God he chokes to death on one of his front teeth or maybe even his lying tongue.”
“Aish….” Yoochun hissed and reached over to grab his friend’s hand, inspecting the damage. “We need to get ice on this.”
“No, the pain’s good because the moment that it stops hurting...” Jae met Yoochun’s tear-ravaged gaze with a wavering glance. “I know I’m going to go crawling back to him for more.”
The ice burned nearly as much as Jaejoong’s punch and not for the first time, Yunho pondered the wisdom of falling in love with the temperamental singer. By the time Junsu knocked on his room door, he’d already run through two hand towels to stop the bleeding and a glass of warm whiskey to dull the pain.
“Stop taking it off,” Junsu ordered, leaned across the couch they were sitting on and slapped Yunho’s shoulder. “You’ve got to keep the ice pack on.”
“It’s not an ice pack, it’s a glacier,” Yunho complained, testing his teeth with a prod of his tongue. His right canine jiggled a little bit and he forced himself to leave it alone, hoping the root would firm up once the swelling on his gums went down. “Stop fussing at me.”
“Sorry.” Junsu’s hands fell away and the despair he fought to keep from his face reemerged.
“No, no crying,” Yunho ordered. Putting the ice pack down, he leaned his head on the couch back. “Enough crying.”
“I’m not crying,” Junsu sniffed. “I’m… I need a good swear word.”
They’d traded horror stories, brief details of their failed conversations and the remorse that followed. A tall Kirin Ichiban was split between them and Junsu’s glass was nearly empty, his cheeks flushed red from the alcohol. Outside the city suffered another drenching, sheets of water falling nearly sideways as the rain came down in a fury. Yunho stared at the darkness outside of the window, wondering how he’d complicated his life into such a tangle.
“Do you think he hates you?” Yunho asked.
“Who? Jaejoong or Yoochun?” He puffed out his cheeks and thought. “I think Yoochun loves me. He said he was in love with me but he didn’t want to tell me because it might ruin things.”
“Love doesn’t ruin things,” The man replied.
“Because you and Jaejoong worked out so well,” Junsu shot back.
“It’s not over yet,” Yunho promised.
“Only because both of you aren’t dead yet.” Yunho glared at Junsu over the wadded up towel. “It’s true. Even if one of you dies first, the other will just dig him up or throw himself in the grave and beg for us to cover him with dirt. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“When did you become so cynical?” He cocked his head, hearing a tinge of Changmin in Junsu’s words.
“When Yoochun told me he could never love someone like me… someone who betrayed him.” He sighed.
“And he doesn’t even know all of it,” Yunho replied, waving off Junsu’s shocked look. “Don’t be worried. I didn’t say anything to Joongie. I didn’t have the chance.”
“Did you talk to him at all?” Junsu asked, burping a yeasty bubble.
“No,” Yunho replied, bringing the ice-filled towel back up to his face. “Just a kiss then lights out. I woke up with my face hurting, the door wide open and my room empty of pretty, naked Korean singers.”
“Yeah, he’s been lifting weights. His arms are huge and I wish I had his chest.” He looked down at his torso. “Chunnie and I are always the scrawny ones.”
“He does that when he’s frustrated…work out, I mean,” The man said. “Sexually and otherwise.”
“Jaejoong’s sleeping with Yoochun.” Junsu said. Picking up his beer, he drained it and reached for the bottle. Clumsily refilling his glass, Junsu watched the foam crest into a thick head. “He can’t be that sexually frustrated.”
“Have you seen them…” Yunho motioned with his free hand, vulgarly miming penetration. “Do it all the way.”
“They’re not that rude.” He shook his head. The rain didn’t hold his interest like it did Yunho’s and after a moment of trying to see past the fog on the window, Junsu grabbed a throw pillow and began picking at its trim. “I sometimes walk into the room and it smells like sex. And I’ve seen them… kiss and…”
“Have you seen them have sex?” Yunho pressed. “Something more than hands?”
“No,” Junsu admitted. “Nothing like that. Sometimes a kiss. And there are times when I think they’re…doing something under the blankets. I think they do things in my room! Like I’m not even sleeping there!”
“Then they’re not sleeping together. Not like that.” Yunho grunted, a small kernel of satisfaction planted in his heart. “Jaejoong’s careless and Yoochun’s oblivious. If they were having sex, you’d have walked in on them by now. Think about how many times you caught Jae and I…and I was trying to be discreet.”
“If you were that careful,” Junsu said, trying to suppress another burp. “You wouldn’t have been caught with Se7en and none of this…” He waved his glass in the air, sloshing a few drops on the carpet. “None of this would have happened. The truth is… you’re not that careful.”
“Careful enough,” Yunho replied softly and saluted Junsu with his glass. “No one knew I was having sex with you, Susu-ah so — I think that’s careful enough, no?”
* Japanese word for Camelopardalis, a large but faint constellation in the northern sky. The constellation was first described by Jakob Bartsch in 1624, but was created earlier by Petrus Plancius. The word camelopardalis comes from Latin and it is the Romanization of the Greek “καμηλοπάρδαλις” meaning “giraffe”, from “κάμηλος” (kamēlos), “camel” + “πάρδαλις” (pardalis), “leopard”, due to its having a long neck like a camel and spots like a leopard.
The Camelopardalis constellation is located next to the Cassiopeia constellation.