milena_1980: (jaejoong)
[personal profile] milena_1980
Title: Sleeping With Ghosts 13/?
Author: Pandora/[ profile] milena_1980
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairing: JaeChun (main), YooSu, YooMin, JaeHo, HoMin, HyukSu
Genre: AU, Angst, Romance
Warning: Underage sex (17, but, just to be safe); suicidal feelings; references to substance abuse; self-harm
Summary: Soul mates never die
A/N: Another series of connected drabbles/ficlets, this time JaeChun. No specific number of words this time. Not always in chronological order! Title and lyrics from Sleeping With Ghosts by Placebo
A/N2: I apologize for any grammar mistakes, etc. Please let me know if you find anything!! Comments are love and I also appreciate concrit^^
A/N3: I wasn't going to post this just yet, but, well, you can only reread and edit so many times ^^;; Sorry for the long wait ♥

This one world vision

Title: Rush

Come home with me.

He kisses you hard, his hips snap forward and it's all you can do not to moan out loud.

Shh, he says gently (as gently as he can while fucking you within an inch of your life). You don't want my sisters to hear, do you?

You shake your head, focusing on him. He gives you a lazy smirk, and speaks with his body. I want you, he says, You're mine, he seems to repeat over and over with each thrust into your body. You have to bite your lips not to cry out; you can't close your eyes or else the sensations overwhelm you; you can't look at him or else the sight of his long hair, his sweaty skin, his body, his smoldering eyes . . .

Come home with me, he asked after the last bell. His family is strange and you would have preferred not to. There was something in his eyes, though, that pulled you along, and, before you knew it, you found yourself at his doorstep.

They were there, you saw them as soon as you went in. He didn't acknowledge them, but you felt their gazes follow you until you reached the safety of his bedroom.

Touch yourself, he orders in a whisper and he pushes himself up on a hand to watch you; the sight nearly undoes you.

He kissed you as soon as the door locked behind you, his lips hungry, desperate.

I want you, he said between kisses, already pulling at your clothes. I want to fuck you so bad . . .

But, your sisters . . .
The thought of having sex in the house while his sisters were there filled you with a strange sort of excitement, but also with dread. What if they heard?

They can go to hell.

You gasp as you grab your cock and pump, trying to match your lover's thrusts. He gasps, mouth open. It's all it takes.

It hits you hard; you close your eyes, the pleasure so intense you only see white. Your body's still tingling all over when you come back to reality. He's still fucking you, eyes closed, biting his lower lip. The most beautiful sight you have ever seen.

He gasps suddenly, his body tenses, and then you're feeling as he fills you with warmth. You catch him when he falls, holding him tightly against your body (he doesn't even complain when his skin makes contact with the stickiness on your stomach).

You won't ever leave me, will you? he asks, still breathless.

Never, you promise.

Title: Stray

I'm cold, he whispers into your ear, snuggling closer. You put your arm around him and he sighs, content and comfortable. He looks so peaceful in your arms, the comforter covering up to his chin. Angelic, you think, that's what he has always seemed like when in slumber: a pure, angelic being who could do no harm. However, he needs only open his eyes and the illusion is broken.

Today, Thursday, was the same as any other. You woke up early, had toast and coffee for breakfast (plus a couple of cigarettes out on the balcony). You showered and dressed up in one of your usual suits (dark gray to match your mood). After you tamed your growing hair—it's time for a haircut, but you can't bring yourself to go to a hairstylist—you filled your suitcase with some work you had finished yesterday and then you were on your way.

Life at the office hasn't changed, either: your coworkers have grown to respect you thanks to the clients you have both brought and kept for the company. Nevertheless, work keeps piling up and you have finally become resigned to your lack of an assistant. Ah, you're grateful, in a way: too much work means no time to think; no time to think means no dwelling on things you can't fix.

Like the man lying in your arms right now.

Yoochunnie! he greeted you tonight, at about ten. You had been watching TV, relaxing before tackling some work you had brought home. You didn't expect the buzzer to go off so late, neither did you expect to hear his voice, so full of life and happiness through the intercom. Once up at your door, he pressed the doorbell about ten times, being his usual exasperating self, before you finally opened up. And then you had an armful of Kim Jaejoong, his lips finding yours almost immediately.

I missed you, he said, gazing into your eyes, before finally letting go.

Jaejoong comes and goes whenever he pleases. He found out about your new apartment before you even had a chance to tell him (you had even considered not telling him at all), and he showed up one day, completely wasted, sweaty, like he had been running. You were weak, oh so ridiculously weak; you brought him to your bed and that was that.

Since then, he comes over at least once a week, usually carrying a brown leather backpack with a change of clothes, a perpetual smile on his lips. You don't ask questions anymore; instead, you accept him as he is, you make love to him when you can. If you're lucky, he stays until morning and he says goodbye with a lingering kiss before leaving once again. You continue to live.

Tonight, he seemed sober, but as crazy as only he can be. He told you about some friends you don't really care about, how one of them bought a ridiculously expensive car and offered to take everyone for a spin.

It's a dream! Jaejoong told you, sitting next to you, bright-eyed, smiling. I want a car like his. Then you and I could go on a road trip!

Silence came unexpectedly: Jaejoong kissed you deeply, straddling your thighs, and that was that. Your work lay forgotten on your desk. Ah, well, it's not like you wanted to work on it, anyway.

Hours later, you lie together in the dark, your naked bodies close. Will he be gone come morning? You wonder this each time, your eyes filling with tears. This is the life you have chosen, though. What else can you do but live it?

Title: Strange

Come out with me, he said, snaking his arms around your neck, his warm breath tickling your lips.

I have work to do . . .

You work too much
, he complained. You couldn't even deny it: it's true, you have become a full-on workaholic, just as Changmin and Junsu always worried you would. Just for a few hours. And then we can come home and I can fuck your brains out.

Maybe it was the last few words that did it, but you found yourself walking next to him, his arm linked with yours as he led you to one of the places he now frequents. You weren't surprised when he led you to the darker side of town, nor when you reached an obscure place with a barely visible door and the bouncer let him in without a second glance.

Now you're in a club full of men, in the middle of the dance floor despite your two left feet. It doesn't really matter that you can't dance: Jaejoong wants to dance with you in the way you both know best. He puts his hands on your hips, he holds you tight, leaning closer until you can't tell where you end and he begins. When he kisses you, you must close your eyes and let him take over; this is his moment, he's in control, it's what he wants and you will never deny him.

The song ends almost abruptly and he lets go. You feel the loss and begin to protest, until he holds your hand.

Drink? he asks, eyes filled with lust. You nod and, once again, you let him lead you, this time to the bar. He orders a drink that is way too sweet for your taste.

What is this? He just grins at you and downs his drink in one gulp. You decide not to worry, and do the same. Shots and drinks later, you can barely walk straight. He laughs at everything you say, dark eyes crazy and bright; you wish he would tell you what his secret is. How does he do it? How does he disconnect himself from the world so easily that nothing bothers him and nothing matters and everything is happiness and only happiness? Why can't you be like him? Why must you . . . ?

You think too much, he accuses you, grabbing your hand once again and leading you away from the bar. You think you see a couple of people say hello, but he only waves back, both a greeting and a dismissal, until you're in front of a door. No one stops him, you notice, he just keeps walking along the dark hall, up to a green door. What's behind it? you wonder, but you don't ask; you only watch as he takes a key out of his jeans pocket and opens the lock.

Why do you have . . . ?

, he interrupts you, and then he's closing the door and pushing you against it, lips pressed to yours. You close your eyes, arms around him. Does it really matter where you are as long as you're with him?

Fuck me, you tell him in between kisses. He moans, grinding your groins together and making you gasp.

There's a bed in the room, you find out when he pushes you onto it; he's on you in seconds, kissing you again, taking your breath away. You kiss back as passionately, you pull at his clothes until you feel his naked skin against yours. This is what you live for, you realize, the only reason you fight so hard to stay alive.

Suddenly, he stops, looking down at you.

Yoochun? he sounds concerned, but you can't understand why.

Don't stop, you growl, but you feel breathless, your chest hurts and you can't fix it.

Jaejoong touches your face, the lust in his eyes replaced by worry.

Why are you crying?

Title: Experience

You're late.

You help set up the table: three places, such as it has been during the last several months. Junsu starts bringing in dinner and you stop to help.

Got held up at work, you explained when you arrived nearly an hour later than promised, but that didn't make his frown go away. Junsu only took your jacket and told you to come inside.

He has made little conversation since then. Hyukjae has been the one to ask after your well-being, whether they still treat you like dirt at work.

I guess I'm a masochist, you said when Junsu snorted at your reply.

Now the two of you are alone in the dining room, Hyukjae in the living room watching TV. The air feels so heavy, the tension so thick you think you could cut it with a knife. Why can't he just say what's in his mind?

Junsu . . .

I saw him.
Are you supposed to know who the hell he's talking about?


He glares at you, leaning against a wall.

You know who! I can't believe you're still seeing him even after he destroyed your relationship with Changmin . . .

Jaejoong didn't destroy anything
, you reply, trying to keep your tone of voice down. I did. And, shit, you still regret it, every day that goes by. I'm not going to turn him away, Junsu.

He shakes his head, closing his eyes.

Have you even looked at yourself in a mirror lately? he asks, sounding close to exasperated. Do you know how painful it is to see you waste away over a man who doesn't even love you?

You're both surprised to find Hyukjae at the doorway, eyes wide open. Junsu's lucky, you think, that his lover came in right when he did. Who is he to decide what you should do with your life? Isn't he supposed to be your friend?

I'm leaving, you announce, turning toward the hall. You don't need to listen to this shit.

No, wait, Hyukjae stops you. When you turn, you see he's next to Junsu, his arm around his lover's shoulders. Is Junsu crying? Come on, stay. We've been looking forward to this.

You take a deep breath, but you agree.

The three of you sit at the table, eating and talking about this and that. Hyukjae likes to talk a lot, and you and Junsu usually let him. It's part of his charm, you think, how he can get so into something he will even get you involved in it. And that's how it happens tonight.

At least until they mention them.

I saw Changmin today, Junsu says suddenly. You glance at him, but he doesn't look back. Hyukjae throws you a wary glance. He was nervous, had a composition project due.

, Hyukjae says. How did . . . ?

We sat down a few minutes, and he told me Yunho asked him to move in together.

You nearly choke on your food, but a quick sip of water helps you hide your reaction.

What? (You secretly thank Hyukjae for expressing what you can't). But they haven't been together six months, yet. Isn't that a bit hasty?

Junsu shrugs.

Yunho seems to be in love with him, he says, like that's a good enough reason. Not even eight months have gone by since you and Changmin parted ways, and he's already moving in with Yunho, the same Yunho who supposedly loved Jaejoong so much?

I thought Yunho loved Jaejoong, you say, unable to keep quiet any longer. Junsu finally looks at you, shrugging.

And I thought you loved Changmin.

Junsu, come on, please
, Hyukjae pleads. Look, just . . . What did Changmin say?

Junsu shrugs again, staring down at his plate.

He said no, that it's too soon. Seems he's not over Yoochun, yet.

You close your eyes, guilt eating at you again. Right now, you just want to go home, you want to drink and pass out and forget about everything that happened because of you and your ridiculous weaknesses.

That's natural, Hyukjae replies. How long since you guys broke up? A little more than half a year?

Almost eight months, you answer automatically. He snorts.

Junsu took much longer than that to get over you.

Junsu protests this time, glaring at his lover.

He wouldn't go out with me because he was still in love with you. He preferred to go out with a bunch of losers rather than with someone who actually cared about him.

Junsu looks about to cry, though, eyes shining with tears, brow furrowed. You can only sit there, paralyzed.

Come on, don't do this, your best friend pleads. His lover glares at him, though.

No, I will do this. Let's talk about the real reason why you're so angry at Yoochun. He looks angry, hurt, so many things at once. Another thing that's your fault. You're not angry because he left Changmin, you're angry because he left you.

You're making me sound like I'm a complete asshole
, Junsu replies, visibly agitated. I'm angry because I know what it feels like to compete with Jaejoong and . . .

you finally react. Junsu, you broke up with me. I had no intention of leaving . . .

But you would have!
Tears slip down his face; you hate how vulnerable he looks. Just like it happened with Changmin.

You stand up, trying to calm down. What the hell is going on? Aren't these supposed to be your best friends? Instead they're bringing out the past, as if it mattered. Unless . . .

Shit, Hyukjae, why the fuck are you doing this? you ask, turning to look at him. He looks somewhat guilty, trying to touch Junsu—the other man won't let him, though. Junsu loves you, it couldn't be more obvious. Are you so insecure over his feelings for you that you would hurt him like this?

He can't answer, he seems deflated, sight down. You sigh, say a soft goodbye and leave. This is not your problem anymore.

Title: Pleasure

I'm hungry, he says, getting off the bed and rushing into the kitchen. You barely have any time to put on some shorts and your slippers before you catch up with him.

Ugh, Yoochunnie, you need to stop eating so much take out, he scolds you, leaning to look inside the fridge as he throws some old containers away. Hmm, how do you feel about scrambled eggs?

You want to point out that he's entirely naked, what if he burns something, but, really, you're enjoying the view too much to say anything. He goes about the kitchen as if he owned it (he has cooked there more times than you have, anyway), grabbing ingredients from the fridge, seasonings from the cupboards.

Yoochunnie, put on some music! he orders soon enough and you oblige, playing one of his favorite CDs. He dances around, singing into the spatula, sliding his hand down his chest during a racy song (he smirks at you, and you smirk back). It isn't long before dinner is done and he brings you a plate to the island counter. You try to help, but he stops you.

Can't I do something for my Yoochunnie once in a while? he whispers against your lips, before walking away again.

As soon as he comes back, you eat together.

Dinner seems a repeat of practically every meal you have shared in the last few months. He speaks rapidly, his food nearly forgotten over silly anecdotes about people you don't know. You think he says something about a store, some place in the sketchy side of town. Is that where he lives when you're not together? Does he work at that store?

You haven't asked about that night at the club. Why did he have a key? Why didn't anyone stop him? Curiosity is killing you, but you don't want to drive him away. Regardless of what Junsu says, you need Jaejoong; you don't want him to go away ever again.

Why are you so quiet? he asks, suddenly. You realize he stopped talking a few minutes ago, and you smile.

No reason, you answer. He smiles brightly, taking a bite to eat and stretching. His skin is as pale as ever, you note, but he keeps losing weight—his ribs already show beneath his smooth skin. You notice scars here and there, some you think you recognize from when you were younger; there's a newer one near the inside of his elbow, though.

How did you get that? you ask, reaching to touch the scar. He moves away from you.

Accident, he answers, but you know he's lying and he knows you know. So he changes the topic of conversation once again.

He asks you to do the dishes while he showers. You can't shake off the wrongness looking at his body provoked. You wish you knew what kind of life he leads, what you're exposing yourself to every second you spend with him. What if he's sick? How many men does he sleep with?

You hear him come out of the bathroom and you shower quickly. Once you go back into the bedroom, you find him sprawled on the bed, wearing your bathrobe and watching TV. He's so beautiful, so perfect. Why do you become such an idiot whenever he's around?

Come on, he calls to you, holding out his hand. The show's just starting.

You nod, slipping a pair of boxers on (though you know they'll be off before the show is over) and sit with him. He cuddles up to you, his wet hair tickling at your skin.

Title: Tomorrow

Hey, Baby, wake up, you stroke his hair and he stirs, slowly opening his eyes.

What time is it?

You've just come back from work, so you're still wearing your suit. Food and a long shower would be perfect right now. If only he would get up.

Almost eight, you answer. I brought dinner, if you're hungry.

He nods, eyes drooping again. And he falls asleep.

Four days have gone by since he came over, drunk and possibly high. He didn't even bring his backpack, just the clothes he had on, and grabbed you by surprise, pushing you on the sofa and fucking himself on your lap. You can only remember feelings, his lips on yours, being pushed on the sofa and him getting partially undressed while kissing you; then straddling your lap, taking you in so eagerly you were afraid he would hurt himself. How long did you go on, you wonder? Hours, you think; he kept waking you up throughout the night, wanting to kiss and fuck and nothing else.

The next morning, you could barely get up. You called in sick to work for the first time ever and slept until late afternoon. You thought he would be gone by then (like always), but he was still in bed, snuggled close to you, looking exhausted despite being asleep.

The next day, you left him in bed still, and went to work. Your coworkers asked after your well-being.

I thought you were in the hospital or something, one of your colleagues teased. They think you would have to be dying in order to stay home from work. Depends on how you define 'dying', you thought before settling in your office.

When you came back from work that night, you expected him to be gone. Jaejoong never stays more than one night a week, and this time he came over earlier; surely he would have come to his senses already. However, you found him sitting on the sofa, eating a bowl of rice mixed with some sauce, wearing one of your shorts and watching TV bleary-eyed.

Welcome home, he said softly, trying to smile. Somehow, you managed to hide your worry and leaned down to kiss him. Whether he looked like shit or not, you loved coming home to him. Hadn't that been your dream so many years ago? And now it's true.

Even if he leaves tomorrow.

Tonight, you shower and then serve dinner for you both. Somehow you manage to get him to wake up and sit up against the headboard.

I'm not hungry, he says, wrinkling his nose slightly.

I bet you haven't eaten all day, you tell him, pushing the plate toward him. Just a few bites. And then you can go back to sleep.

He looks at the plate, considering your offer.

Promise? You nod. He sighs, but holds the chopsticks. He eats slowly, and more than you initially hoped (maybe it's because the TV's on and he's distracted by it).

I don't want anymore, he decides after he has eaten nearly half the food on his plate. You think it's fair enough and let him go back to sleep.

After you finish eating and do the dishes, you lie in bed and watch him sleep. What goes on in his mind, you wonder? And why has he stayed so long? More importantly, should you be calling a doctor? He doesn't look well, he's so pale, the circles around his eyes so dark and deep. His appearance rather reminds you to how he looked when you saw him again and he seemed like a zombie next to Yunho. He was functional, then; now he only sleeps, it seems like it takes him great effort to move.

I love you, you whisper, looking at him. Ah, you won't cry now, no matter the tears that want to fall.

You lie closer to him and hold his body close, hoping that he'll still be here tomorrow.

Title: Loneliness

Can you make it to dinner tonight? he asks, tone soft and apologetic.

Are you going to attack me again? Hey, he did attack you last time you came over, as did Hyukjae, in a way.

He sighs, and you know he really regrets what happened.

I promise no one will attack you tonight, or ever again, he answers and you laugh softly.

Then I'll be there.

How long has it been since you last went up to Junsu's apartment? You haven't seen each other in the lobby or inside the elevator since (you admit you did avoid them for a few days after the argument), nor have you called each other. Two weeks? Three? Ah, it has been a long time and you miss them, anyway.

Jaejoong left after the sixth day and you haven't seen him since. You miss him terribly (your heart aches at the thought of coming to an empty apartment with him nowhere in sight), and you wonder about his health. More than once, you grab your cell phone and dial, but you hang up. He can call if he wants to talk. That's what you decided after this dysfunctional relationship took shape: he calls you if he wants to see you, you will never look for him again.

He remains in your thoughts most days, and today is no exception. Work seems boring and sometimes difficult; you talk with clients, go to meetings, meet with a client for drinks. He seems like the only real thing in your mind.

You get home just minutes after nine and you rush into your apartment for a quick shower and a bottle of wine you have been saving for one of those days you need to numb your feelings. Once at Junsu's door, you press the doorbell, an excuse already on your lips.

But someone other than Junsu answers the door.

Yoochun. He smiles at you and you almost melt. He looks amazing, so beautiful, eyeglasses perched on his nose.

Changmin. You feel a bit like an idiot, staring, mouth slightly open. You haven't seen him in so long, even if you talk occasionally. He looks amazing, happy (nothing like those last few months before you broke up). You cut your hair.

He reaches up to touch his now short hair. Is he blushing?

Yeah. It was getting too long. He swallows hard, staring back at you.

Min, who's at the door? Junsu's voice seems to wake you both up and Changmin opens the door wider.

Sorry, he apologizes and you walk past him. Why is Changmin here? And why didn't Junsu tell you he would be?

Once you get to the living room and you see Hyukjae's nervous smile, you realize why.

Hey, Yoochun, he says. Uh, this was a bit last minute. I hope you don't mind . . .

We can just leave, if you want
, Yunho tells you, looking straight into your eyes. Shit.

What do you do? Do you stay here with your former lover and his current lover, who happens to be your current lover's former lover? Fuck, you're getting a headache and you're beginning to get tense. No, not a good thing at all.

No, I'll leave, you say, gaze never wavering. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, and I'm not feeling all that well right now . . .

You made it!
Junsu cries from the doorway. Next thing you know, he hugs you tight. Forgive me? he whispers into your ear. I promise I'll make it up to you.

You have to snort at that, but you hug him back anyway. You can't help but wonder whatever led him to have all three of you over for dinner on the same night. Maybe Changmin and Yunho came by unexpectedly?

I don't know about your promises. You sigh, tightening your hold on him. But I won't leave only because you're asking me not to.

When he lets go of you, he's grinning.

Someone help me set up? he asks. Both Changmin and Hyukjae volunteer. You choose not to bother yourself as to why they dare to leave you and Yunho alone, and instead you sit on the loveseat.

Yunho remains standing, staring at you. You stare back.

What? you ask. He shrugs.

Changmin wanted to come, he says. He wanted to see you.

You look into his eyes, knowing that he would never lie about the man he now loves.

He looks happy, you reply. He shrugs once again.

Maybe, he says. We still have a long way to go, though.

Do you love him?
He seems taken aback by your question. Come on. Not ten months ago you and Jaejoong were the perfect couple and now . . .

Yes, I love Changmin
, he answers finally, never breaking eye contact. So, it's true?

Come on, you guys, Hyukjae calls you into the dining room.

Dinner begins a tense affair, but Junsu and Hyukjae make sure to talk about topics even you would be interested in. You listen to everyone talk about work and school: Yunho's run in with a famous but pompous Pop star who got in Yunho's face only to have the choreographer set him straight; Changmin's happiness over receiving much support from the university regarding his music and his projects; Junsu's work at music school.

You only listen, until, mid-dinner, the ever-present question pops up.

So, Yoochun, how's work? Changmin asks. You don't know how to read his gaze. Is he being critical of you again?

Fine . . .

They're still killing him
, Junsu interrupts you and you must glare at him. More work and responsibilities, and they still won't give him an assistant.

Changmin gives you a worried gaze you're too familiar with.

Yoochun, you need to leave that place, he pleads (it almost feels like a year ago, when you came home so tired you could barely walk).

Don't worry about me, you tell him. No more on this subject, everyone. Please.

You see Changmin frown, but you ignore him, wishing the ease of earlier would return.

You decide to leave only minutes after finishing dessert. Junsu tries to get you to stay longer by offering you some of the wine you brought, but you refuse, saying goodbye to everyone.

You're surprised that you could stand an entire evening with Yunho, but you're glad for it. Maybe you could learn to get along. Although, Changmin . . . was that love you still saw in his eyes? No, he can't love you, he wouldn't be with Yunho if he did.

The elevator doors open and you're about to step inside, when you hear your name.

Yoochun, wait!

You turn around, only to see Yunho rushing toward you. He looks apologetic and worried, but why?

I just wanted to ask . . . He takes a deep breath. How is Jaejoong?

The question isn't surprising (then, why do you jump at hearing that name on his lips?). You shrug.

I haven't seen him for a couple of weeks now, you admit. He looked all right the last time I saw him. It hurts you to lie like this. Yunho would help if you told him about last time. If only your stupid pride wouldn't get in the way . . .

Yunho exhales, looking straight at you, gaze filled with determination.

Push him to tell you, he says, suddenly. You can only stare at him. What the hell is he saying? He wants to tell you everything, he just doesn't know how to.

The elevator beeps and the doors start to close. You react quickly and push the button again. Somehow, you ignore Yunho as you get in and go down to your floor.

You feel numb, dead, and the feeling accompanies you up to your door. You grab a bottle of soju, then grab your pack of cigarettes from the coffee table. There's only the sound of late night traffic when you come out to the balcony (you wonder if he's nearby, among all those late night partygoers, or maybe he's making his way over to you).

Yunho's words repeat over and over in your mind, until you think you'll go crazy. Why does Yunho know? And what does he know? Why can't Jaejoong trust you to love him and be by his side? You remember Yunho and Changmin sitting together, the ease with which they talked, Yunho's simple action of getting up to get something from the kitchen when Changmin asked for it.

You had it all.

What do you have now?

Title: Space

I'm coming to get you at ten. You'd better be all pretty for me! he says into the phone. You want to send him to hell, quite honestly: he disappears for almost a month and now he expects you to go out clubbing with him?

You're an idiot, though. You're already downstairs by nine-forty five.

Yoochunnie! he cries at your sight. You don't expect him to throw himself in your arms and kiss you (at least not while in public).

I've missed you, sooooo much. He's drunk. Fuck. These are my friends. They're coming with us. You don't mind, do you?

He keeps talking with the two men he brought along, but he doesn't let go of you, arm firm around your shoulders. One of them—a man with obviously dyed red hair—keeps staring at you, but you do your best to ignore him.

Once at the club, it's a whole different story.

Jaejoong gets you a couple of drinks and pulls you along to dance. Once you tell him you're tired, though, he doesn't even try to convince you to submit to his wishes and grabs the red-haired man instead. You stay at the bar, drinking and knowing that he'll come back at one point.

While you wait, you watch the men in the club. Some are attractive, some are average, most are nervous. Some keep together in groups, looking around until one of them finally finds the courage to let loose.

Idiots, you mutter. You're drunk, dead tired and you want to go home. You wish you could go catch a taxi, but you don't want to leave without Jaejoong. Just being without him was hell, and now . . .

Sir? Sir?

You feel someone shaking you. You don't recognize his voice. Your head hurts, as does your neck. As soon as you open your eyes, you're thrown off balance.

Whoa, there, the man, a young guy, says, holding your arm. You're at the bar, you recognize the club, but all the people are gone. As soon as the thought hits you, you look around, searching for the one person you were waiting for. He's nowhere to be seen, though, not unless he went through the door on the far wall. Did Jaejoong just abandon you here? What the hell . . . ?

Can I call you a cab? the guy asks. He's giving you a look, and he doesn't seem to want to let go of your arm. You're too angry to answer, your heart is beating faster, and, fuck, you need to do something about this feeling or you'll go crazy.

You lick your lips, watching as his eyes follow your motion. You step closer, invading his space.

Unless you want to take me home. You have done this maybe three or four times in your life, and only during college. Junsu never liked you taking strange guys home, but he isn't here, he won't care.

Just let me finish cleaning up the bar, your stranger says, smiling invitingly, and you finally recognize him as the bartender you kept asking drinks to all night. You can see the other bartender cleaning up at the other side of the bar.

Sure. He smiles and you look him up and down as he walks away. Not bad at all.

And Jaejoong . . . Jaejoong can go to hell.

tbc . . .

<<Part 12 | Part 14>>
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