Genre: AU, angst, slice of life
Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the story. I wish I had YunJae and if I had my way, they'd move to New Zealand so they can be civil-unionised here :P
AN1: This wanted to get written instead of ch15 of ICE and I had one helluva muse fight to get ch15 out lol. I re-wrote that chapter three times because Joongie was being a goddamn brat and sulking because he wanted this oneshot written instead of ch15. The gif originated from tohososhi.tumblr.com and it's from his drama and I want to die...
AN2: This is the aftermath of Forgotten so you might want to read that first… All my oneshots and drabbles for the Sleeping Beauty universe can be found HERE.
The house is hushed, something that is completely alien in a household with five children. It is not the usual hush of bedtime although it is after 10pm, because even then, there is an energy in the house that doesn’t dissipate even after the young ones are all put to sleep.
This hush is different.
Anyone walking in will be able to feel it immediately. It is an almost terrifying feeling, raising goosebumps on already cool flesh as the temperature in the house is a lot lower than usual. The silence is uncomfortable. It is as if the entire house has sucked in a huge breath of air, and is holding it, not exhaling and breathing life into the silent rooms. It feels as if it is waiting for something.
Waiting to be given permission to exhale.
The bedrooms of the children are empty, the beds lay empty and untouched.
The pink and purple covers in the girls’ bedroom are crease free, the floor spotless with no books strewn about. There are no discarded socks, or a stray pair of frilly white underwear. There are no young girls whispering quietly to each other from their beds, no sound of humming or singing coming from the purple bed. There is no hushed giggling from the pink bed as the older girl tells her younger sister about some new handsome actor in a drama she’s managed to sneak a peek at while their Mama isn’t watching.
The silence and emptiness is disconcerting.
The larger bedroom belonging to the three boys is dark. This bedroom is never left unlit because the younger twin is afraid of the dark, and there is always a nightlight left on, plugged in a socket high up and out of reach from a naughty older twin who sometimes teases his brother about his fear of the dark. The king bed that is split into two singles for them lies empty. The matching green covers are tugged hastily, a messy attempt at making their beds, a complete contrast to the pristine bedroom of their older sisters. There are toys and books strewn everywhere. A large Lego fortress sits in the corner, half done, the broken shadows from it casting a dystopic hue over the room.
And perpendicular to the twins’ beds, against the wall, is a little Thomas the Tank Engine bed. The blue covers are pushed back, the smiling face of Thomas on the headboard is grotesque in the darkness, looking menacing and ugly instead of cheerful and happy. There is a Bambi stuffed toy on the pillow, the toy so worn that the head is almost loose from it’s body, twisting unnaturally, broken in the dim light. An empty sipper cup of milk is toppled onto it’s side by the bed, the cup bearing the marks of its owner. Tiny dirty little finger smudges over it as the youngest Jung had been playing out in the garden when he had been called in to bed. Being the stubborn and hungry child he is, he had insisted on finishing his milk before his bedtime shower.
A room where the soft snores of three boys are usually heard at this time of the night, is bereft of them.
Walking through the house, it will be easy for someone to believe that there is no one home.
But this would be the wrong assumption, for the occupants of the house are all there.
The California King bed of the parents in this household is full. Four children are sleeping quietly in it, while the fifth is feeding as his parents watch him.
The bed is custom made, with cushioned railings able to be slotted in where necessary. Jiyool is at the end of the bed, her back protected from the raised railings by a thick blanket that had been draped over it by her father. Faint tear streaks can be seen on her cheeks as she cradles her younger sister to her in her sleep. JJ’s head is off her pillow, slipping low, her face buried against her sister’s chest, her arm wrapped around the slim frame of the older girl. She too has faint tear streaks on her face, and her pouty mouth is parted slightly, as she drools onto the Barbie princess sleeping gown of her sister.
Against JJ’s back is Yoochun. He is turned away from her, facing his twin, an arm each hanging loosely around each other with their thumbs in their mouths. It is a habit that they fall back to when upset, and even though they are almost five, this habit makes them seem younger than they are. They too have dried tear streaks on their face, and Junsu, the younger twin, is sleeping fitfully. Every twitch and jerk he makes causes his brother to tighten his hold on him even though the oldest male child is asleep, and after half an hour, they are sleeping practically nose to nose as the older twin subconsciously tries to comfort his brother in his sleep. They are fraternal twins, but the bond is undeniable, as Junsu finally relaxes as he breathes in his twin. Their soft breathing is in tandem, when one exhales, the other inhales, and they slowly slip together into a deeper sleep, untouched by the harsh realities of life, and the fact that they almost lost their baby brother that day.
The youngest is drowsing. He is unaware of the utter chaos he has caused, and how close he had come to not existing. He is unaware of the terrible fight his parents had, and how close he had come to losing both of them. The Jung family unit is held together by the love that is Jaejoong, and the strength that is Yunho. But that day, both of them unravel as they are faced with a tragedy that would have been the end of them both.
But the little boy is blissfully unaware, too happy to be able to drink from his Mama again to think about anything else. He is still too weak and frail to really give the situation any thought. His mind and body have shut down, only operating on the bare minimum, and that is to feed to survive. He doesn’t know why his throat hurts so very badly when he tries to speak, or why his body is so hot, and his head hurts. He has no idea why he cannot seem to summon enough energy to even lift a hand to wave at his siblings, or why he keeps wanting to fall asleep. He is unaware of the tears being shed for him, as practically every waking moment is spent plastered against his Mama’s chest.
The three year old blinks up sleepily at his Mama’s face, barely feeling the featherlight touches of soft lips on his fingertips as he kisses his small hand. After a couple more tired sucks, he pulls off, pouty mouth wet with milk and saliva as he closes his eyes, drifting quickly off to sleep as he is wont to do. It is as if his body knows what to do, keeping him unconscious as far as necessary, and only waking him when it needs sustenance. He has been feeding almost every hour, though the first few times had been met with tears as Dr. Han had stopped him from feeding too much, for fear of him throwing up.
But he doesn’t understand, only wanting his Mama.
Jaejoong moves his hand from Changmin’s back, gently letting his son’s body fall naturally onto his back as he falls asleep once again. His eyes don’t stray from the steady rise and fall of the youngling’s chest, watching, and counting each breath.
When he reaches 90, he feels an arm slipping around his body, and he tenses. Yunho hasn’t touched him since he had let him go in the bathroom that afternoon almost ten hours ago.
When he reaches 95, he feels lips against his ear.
When he reaches 96, he hears the words.
Jaejoong stops counting as his vision is suddenly blinded by tears. He struggles to keep quiet, but the gasping sobs escape, hitching, clogging his throat as the dam breaks.
He is unaware of Jiyool waking because of his crying, staring sleepily across the bed at her parents as her father looks over at her. She watches as he places a slim finger to his lips, and she nods, eyes dropping back to her Mama who has a fist to his mouth as he tries to stop his crying. She feels her own eyes well up, as she feels the pain in each harsh sob. She knows what happened, Dr. Han and her father explaining it to them. She knows her siblings don’t blame their Mama. They all cried for their brother, and the clear pain their Mama is still feeling, even though he doesn’t say a word. The haunted look in his eyes keeps them all silent. He hasn’t heard him say a word since she came home from school. All he does is feed the baby, and then stare blindly into nothing. She tried to talk to him after dinner, but even his hugs felt empty.
Like her Mama isn’t there.
She wants him back.
“Daddy…” she whispers, her eyes on her Mama. “Daddy…”
“Yes, baby girl?” she hears the return hoarse whisper over the heartbreaking sobs of her Mama.
“I want Mama back. Please fix Mama. Please fix him. I’ll watch Minnie.”
Yunho needs no further encouragement. His oldest daughter is eight, and more than capable of keeping an eye on her sleeping siblings. She is her Mama’s daughter, so full of life and love, with a quiet wisdom that belies her age. Like Jaejoong, she is fiercely protective, and he knows she will call them if necessary. While loathe to leave Changmin, he has been assured by the doctor that his son is well on the road to recovery. While still slightly dehydrated, his constant feeding is hydrating him quickly, not to mention the quality of milk he is getting is quickly boosting his immune system, giving him the valuable nutrients he needs to be able to recover from the accident with the absolute minimum of damage, if any.
He slips out of bed, scooping his weeping wife into his arms, as the slim man fights to get out of his grasp. But Jaejoong is weak from all the feeding, giving everything he has to their son, and he is unable to break his hold. He picks up the baby monitor from the bedside table, and he stays long enough to watch Jiyool carefully extricate herself from her sister’s hold, replacing her place with a small bolster instead as the six year old doesn’t stir. He watches as she crosses across the large bed quickly, moving the railing into place on the side that he has just vacated, and padding it with a couple of pillows as she stretches out next to her sleeping baby brother. She gives him a thumbs up, and he nods in acknowledgement, before striding quickly out of the room, leaving the door ajar.
The house is silent, and his bare feet doesn’t change the strange stillness of the large family home. Yunho moves past the playroom and the children’s rooms, going to a completely separate part of the house where the library, study and music rooms are housed. He doesn’t stop though, moving even past that wing into the guest bedrooms, and entering the first one he finds.
He doesn’t bother with the light, striding purposefully to the bed, dropping the baby monitor carefully on the bare bedside table, before dropping his wife carefully onto the bedspread.
Jaejoong rolls away immediately, curling into himself, the broken sound of his crying is louder in this room, as he stops trying to stifle his pain. He cries his heartbreak that has added up cumulatively over the last ten hours. Every tug of Changmin’s mouth against his skin shatters him from within as he thinks about what he almost lost. Sometimes as his three year old feeds, he is transported way back when the boy was literally still an infant, those huge dark eyes staring up so trustingly at him, that little pouty mouth slick with milk as he gurgles happily at being fed. Changmin had fed the longest out of his children, and while Jaejoong knows he doesn’t play favourites with his babies, the bond he has with the youngest is different to the rest.
Changmin’s first word had been Mama. And his second, much to the chagrin of his father, had been milk. For awhile, before he learned the second word, Mama was always synonymous with milk.
His first word upon waking had been Mama. His son had called for him in his pain and fear, trusting the one person he knows will never fail him.
But Jaejoong has failed him. Failed him so completely that he can barely live with himself.
And he cries for the pain he had carelessly inflicted on his young son. He had tortured himself just before dinner, after Changmin had fallen asleep again after feeding. He had gone out to the car, still sitting in the driveway with the doors open, no one bothering to touch it.
No one wanting to touch it.
Jaejoong had stood in the door and stared at the child seat in the back.
The stench of urine is still strong, as well as the smell of putrefaction from the vomit that hadn’t been cleaned up. The car had been left in the hot sun, the temperature rising as the day had moved on.
But the worst part of all is not the smell.
It is the smeared prints on the window.
A window that is always pristine because his children know better than to touch the windows.
But the window by the baby’s car seat is dirty and smeared.
Jaejoong had stood out there for long minutes, staring at the handprints. He can make out tiny three year old size palm prints on the window, and he is so frozen with pain he cannot cry. He stood there unmoving as he imagined his youngest screaming in the slowly warming car, stifled and frightened. Frightened enough to wet himself, crying till he had thrown up, desperately banging on the window trying to find a way out.
It is Dr. Han who found him out there, and the man had to drag him away with all his strength because Jaejoong’s feet refused to cooperate.
All he can see in his head are those tiny palm prints, forever imprinted on the glass of the backseat of the car.
And despite all that, his son had called for him.
The memory of that, of his eloquent three year old, reduced to the eight month old infant who only knew two words.
Changmin had uttered no other words for the rest of the day even though Dr. Han had reassured him that he had spoken other words to his father.
But Jaejoong had not bothered to ask Yunho for confirmation. He cannot face his husband after almost killing their son.
He vaguely remembers being manhandled in the driveway, and in all honesty, it is a very cloudy memory. He feels nothing from it.
But each stuttering cry from his son, each whispered call for him, each hoarse rasp to be fed.
He remembers it all.
And it hurts. It hurts so very much.
Jaejoong barely feels the arms around him, turning his body, as his face meets a strong chest.
Yunho has no idea what to do.
His wife is in so much pain he cannot even think of his own pain. The anger and fear had left him the second Jaejoong had begged to be killed. It had left him so completely he cannot even bring forth enough imagination to remember how he felt before he heard the broken plea.
Yunho would do anything for his children.
Ask him to move mountains and to tell the tide to stop coming in for them, and he will try his very best.
But ask him to live without his wife, and the strong man everyone sees will shatter into a million broken pieces.
It had happened once before, when Jiyool had been just a baby. So small, and too young to understand, but he had given her up to the care of others as he almost lost his mind from the belief that his wife was dead.
His new wife back then, the ink had barely dried on the marriage certificate.
And now his wife of almost seven years is losing himself to the pain.
No parent ever wants to be asked to choose between their children and their spouse.
But Yunho knows, and it is crystal clear to him once again that horrible afternoon.
If he had to choose between his children and his wife, he would choose Jaejoong.
And in all honesty, he cannot even summon enough self-loathing in himself for his choice because Jaejoong is his light, and without him there is only darkness.
But now his light is letting himself fall into the deep dark abyss of guilt and pain. Dr. Han had mentioned that had Jaejoong not been feeding Changmin, he would have sedated him immediately. The man is almost catatonic, not reacting to anyone or anything except Changmin. The older children were all scared and upset, but they had kept silent. They take their cues from their Mama, they always have, and with the man being a hollow shell of himself, the children are left drifting.
Jiyool wants her Mama back, but Yunho has no idea what to do. It is always Jaejoong who brings them back. His love and light is a beacon for them all, the centre of their universe, the focal point of each of their lives.
What happens when the lighthouse dims and fades into nothing?
Ships will run aground.
Yunho needs to pull Jaejoong from the edge of nothing, before he falls into it completely.
Jaejoong is spent.
His body can no longer produce tears, and all he is left with is the gulping sounds his throat is making as he struggles to breathe. His nose is so clogged that he reaches for the first thing he comes across.
His husband hasn’t changed since getting home from work that afternoon, not leaving to even have a shower, wanting to keep watch over his family as best he can.
Yunho’s lips twitch as he watches his wife lift his expensive silk tie to his nose and blows hard. He is immediately transported back to a time long ago, and yet it feels like yesterday, where a similarly gulping and gasping Jaejoong had used his tie to blow his nose clear of snot and cum.
His body twitches at the memory, and he allows it to run rampant as his wife blows his nose again.
Tearful doe eyes turn up towards him, the haze of pain is so clear within them that it hurts Yunho deep in his soul. His wife looks so young and vulnerable, that Yunho can believe that he is once again holding a teenage Jaejoong in his arms. His hold is loose, almost tentative, afraid that anything more will scare the younger man away.
“Hug…” Jaejoong’s voice is but a croak.
Yunho doesn’t hesitate, gathering his wife fully in his arms tucking the younger man’s head under his chin as he hugs him close. He feels Jaejoong slipping an arm around him, and his eyes fill as he feels that arm tighten around him.
“What have I done, Yunho? What have I done?” Jaejoong whispers painfully against his husband’s chest. The man he believed would revile him is holding him so tenderly he almost believes that the afternoon never happened. But it is not enough to reassure him.
“Jae, please…” Yunho presses a kiss to his wife’s forehead. “Please don’t…”
‘Don’t what? Don’t hurt? I can’t, Yunnie… Every time I open my eyes, all I see is his handprints on that window. When I close my eyes, I see his body sitting motionless in his carseat.”
Yunho’s arms tighten as Jaejoong starts to sob again.
Jaejoong draws back, eyes wide and disbelieving, tears clinging to his long lashes as he stares up at his husband. His voice is almost scornful, mostly aimed at himself than Yunho.
“Love? Love? I don’t deserve your love. I don’t deserve anyone’s love. How can you love me after what I did? If I could will myself out of existence, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
Yunho moves quickly, looming over an angry Jaejoong, pinning him to the bed as he stares down at those pain-filled doe eyes he loves so completely.
“Don’t you ever fucking say that,” he bites out, his voice harsh. “Don’t you ever fucking say that again. No matter how much pain we have all gone through today, the pain would be infinitely worse if we lost you. Can’t you see? Can’t you see how much we all need you? How much Changmin needs you? How much our other children need you? They were all crying today. But they were not crying just for Changmin. They didn’t see what happened, and their brother looks fine to them, just a little quiet. But they can see the change in you. The twins cried themselves to sleep, and you were oblivious but Junsu kept asking Yoochun what’s wrong with Mama? I want Mama, Chunnie. What’s wrong with Mama?. JJ did not say a word, but I saw her cry as she looked at you. At you, not Changmin. She was crying when she looked at you.”
Yunho doesn’t pause, even as Jaejoong starts to sob again, his voice is filled with pain as he grits out his words through clenched teeth to stop his own tears from falling.
“And Jiyool? Little Yoolie who is growing up to be the very image of you. Her light is strong, reflecting and basking in your light. She is the moon to your sun. She wants her Mama back too. The baby girl you took on as your own, erasing whatever memories she had of her vile birth mother. She is your daughter and she wants you back. She asked me to fix you. But how can I fix you when you are my light?”
Yunho’s voice breaks, shaking as he presses down on his wife whose crying is being subdued by the pain he can hear in his husband’s voice.
“My light, Jaejoong. You pulled me out from a darkness that no one should be able to come out from. You took on my pain as your own, you took on my battles as your own, and you kissed my scars and purged the blackness from my soul. What would I be if I lost you? Where would I be if I lost you? Everyone believes I’m so strong. The indomitable Jung Yunho. But if only they knew what a fucking joke that is. Losing you would kill me.”
Yunho’s shudders at the pain ripping through his body at the mere thought of losing Jaejoong, blind in his own pain now, not feeling the hands that have slipped under his shirt, riding up his back, hands stroking his back soothingly, lovingly.
“You gave me a second chance at life. You need to give yourself that second chance. Please, Jaejoong…I can’t live without you.”
Yunho cannot stop the broken sob that escapes his lips, hot tears flowing down his cheeks to drip onto his wife’s face.
His husband has given him back his sanity. They have always been able to reach into the very essence of the other, their connection is so strong that even his own family marvels at it. And Yunho has succeeded in pulling him back from the precipice. The pain his husband feels, he feels as if it is his own, and he knows that Yunho can feel his own pain in return. The words are healing, a balm on his fears, pulling him from the cowardice that has him wishing for death because he cannot bear to face what he has done and to lose this man’s love.
Jaejoong slips his hands from around Yunho’s back, squirming to move so that he can reach up to cup Yunho’s cheeks in the cage of his husband’s arms. He pulls Yunho down, pressing their mouths together, kissing him, swallowing his tears, their lips slipping clumsily against each other’s as they both struggle to find themselves again.
Yunho kisses his wife back as if he is trying to taste the elixir of life. The kisses are chaste, just soft lips across each other’s. Sweet, tentative, tasting each other’s fears and pain, the salty tang of their tears is heavy on their tongues.
“Love me…” Jaejoong breathes, licking at Yunho’s beautiful mouth. “Love me…Yunnie-ah, please…”
Yunho draws back slightly, looking down into his wife’s wide doe eyes. He knows what Jaejoong is asking for.
“Are you sure?”
Jaejoong nods, cheeks colouring slightly, suddenly shy and feeling like a teenager all over again, but he fights through the sudden embarrassment from whence it has come he knows not.
“Love me…remind me that you love me. I love you so much it hurts. Please…”
Yunho bends his head to take a slow lick of the pout that has driven him crazy for nigh on seven years now. As much, if not more now, compared to when they were first married.
“…I never stopped loving you.”
Their clothes are shed quickly, as they slip between the covers. Yunho and Jaejoong had learned early on to keep lube in every room of the house except the children’s rooms, and this pre-emptive move comes in handy that night.
Their touches are soft and slow and loving, healing and strengthening each other with each caress, no hurry in their movements even though they both subconsciously have an ear out for the baby monitor. A baby monitor that lies silent as their five children sleep in their bed, quiet and restful, as if they too know that their parents are slowly coming back together for them. That their father is fixing their mama, and that their mama is healing their father. The children sleep on, blissfully unaware of the soft gasp Jaejoong makes as Yunho enters him slowly.
Yunho is cupping Jaejoong’s cheek, kissing his wife’s face as he moves, his strokes are long and slow, and he can feel Jaejoong trembling, his mouth parted, soft puffs of air coming out and caressing his face.
Jaejoong is shaking with each measured stroke. Yunho rarely makes love to him this slowly, because he is far too impatient still. No longer a teenager, he hasn’t lost the impatience of his youth. Instead of taking it slow, Yunho would rather tease and torment him till he is screaming for release.
But this, the way Yunho is gazing into his eyes as he feels his length filling him so thoroughly.
The way he thumbs his cheek so gently, lips caressing his face, but his eyes never leaving his.
He can feel his body grasping at Yunho with each pull, his body wanting to hold on to the man, to keep him buried to the hilt within him for as long as possible.
Each slow drag across his prostate makes his belly roll and coil deliciously, and his legs tighten around his husband’s body.
Their bodies move together as one, whispered words of love flowing between them, interspersed by breathy moans and gasping groans.
Jaejoong comes first with a soft cry that is swallowed by his husband as he spills his seed into his husband’s waiting hand, as Yunho pumps his cock, catching his essence in his hand, mindful that his son will be feeding later. He speeds up his thrusts, chasing his own orgasm as his sated wife clenches his body tighter, whispering soft loving words in his ear, sucking on his earlobe, kissing a path to the pulse in his throat, opening his mouth over the throbbing artery, and sucking hard as he comes with a drawn out groan.
Yunho pulls out carefully, his wife whining as he always does when their bodies separate. He lays next to Jaejoong’s head on the pillow as he brings his hand up to his mouth, licking it clean, mouth quirking into a smirk as he watches his wife wrinkling his nose.
Once his hand is clean, he leans forward to lick at Jaejoong’s mouth, making the younger man squeal softly as he draws back, licking his own pouty mouth, red and swollen from being kissed. He chuckles quietly as his wife makes a face.
“Not to your taste?”
Jaejoong’s eyes widen and brighten, remembering. “Are you marked as mine yet?” he asks, his voice lilting, gentle humour infusing it.
Yunho remembers too, as he leans forward again to peck at his wife’s mouth, the taste of the younger man is heavy on his tongue as he licks at his own mouth. He presses his lips against Jaejoong’s slightly parted ones, drawling his words, dragging each syllable.
“I can still taste you, Jae…”
The beautiful smile that lights up his wife’s face at his words is worth any pain anyone ever wants to inflict on him, as long as he gets to see that radiant smile gracing that beautiful face he loves.
Jaejoong leans forward, licking and seeking entrance into Yunho’s mouth, which his husband allows with a throaty chuckle, and he sweeps his tongue, tasting himself in his husband’s mouth, pressing closer and wanting more.
They kiss languidly, sharing the taste of Jaejoong between them, a taste that the younger man is still a little iffy about, but one thing is always certain for him.
“I taste better on you…”
Yunho chuckles again, pressing a kiss to his wife’s nose, turning and gathering the younger man in his arms as he strokes his hand up and down his side.
They lie in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying being held by the other.
“Will we be alright?” Jaejoong finally speaks, his voice small, as his worries start to come back after the bliss he just shared with his husband.
Yunho tightens his arms around his wife, before moving to sit up as he hears the baby monitor crackling.
“You and I, Jae. As long as we’re together, everything will be alright.”
Jaejoong slips out of bed, taking the boxers and pajama bottoms that his husband hands him.
Yunho’s voice is firm as he pulls on his pants, leaving the rest of his clothes in the room as he grabs the baby monitor where he can hear Jiyool whispering soothingly to Changmin. Jaejoong grabs his free hand, and they leave the room at a jog, returning to their children.
They enter the bedroom, seeing all their children awake, sitting up quietly and watching their baby brother fuss and fret, his crying is soft and plaintive, a dismal croak in his overused throat.
Jiyool immediately moves aside when she sees her parents.
None of the children bat an eyelid at seeing their parents topless. It is an extremely regular occurrence, so much so that Yoochun and Junsu had gotten into trouble at the creche when they were playing “Mommies and Daddies” with the other children, and had taken off their shirts.
Jaejoong lowers the railing, climbing into bed, stretching out next to Changmin who immediately turns into his chest, latching on and starts to feed, sucking hungrily as he gulps down his milk, eyes wide and staring at his Mama with unshed tears in his eyes. Jaejoong starts humming softly, a familiar song, as he uses a finger to brush away the sweaty strands of hair plastered to his son’s forehead.
Yunho goes round to the other side of the bed, lowering the other railing and climbing into that side.
He immediately finds himself with a twin in each lap, and tiny little JJ slipping between her brothers to plant herself squarely in the middle. Jiyool, not to be left out, crawls forward, lying behind her baby brother, hugging him gently, an arm over him and touching her mama’s side.
“I love you, Mama.” Jiyool says softly against the back of her brother’s head. Her words don’t disturb the three year old from his feeding as their mama smiles, moving to cup her cheek, thumb grazing softly over her cheekbones.
The caress is gentle and soft, and Jiyool doesn’t know why but it brings tears to her eyes as she lifts her hand to hold the warm palm to her cheek. Her Mama’s smile is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen, and she is incredibly happy that her Daddy has managed to fix him. She has her Mama back, and she cannot be more relieved.
JJ and the twins are sitting and staring at their Mama, each head turning up to their father’s as he kisses the tops of their heads in turn.
JJ’s voice is quiet, her first word since she returned home from her first day of school.
“Yes, baby?” Jaejoong answers before Yunho can, his heart tugging as his twins gape at him. Has he been so out of it today that he’s forgotten his other children?
“I was scared today. But now I’m not.”
Yunho nuzzles his daughter’s soft hair, kissing her head. “Why, baby?”
“Because Mama is smiling…”
The twins both nod immediately, as Junsu pipes up, his voice high and sweet. “When Mama smiles, nothing is wrong.”
Yoochun’s nod is fervent as he too speaks up, “Mama, please smile more.”
“Your Mama has a beautiful smile.” Yunho agrees, wearing his own soft smile as his wife’s lips tug further into a wider smile, his doe eyes shining and shimmering with the sheen of relieved tears.
Changmin hears that familiar word, pulling off as he gazes up at his Mama. His own mouth tugged into a happy smile, his voice is barely a whisper but they can all hear it.
AN1: I have decided against writing a sequel. A sequel requires me to be somewhat linear, while all these drabbles and oneshots give me much more freedom in terms of what my muse(s) want written. I’m inspired by random things for this verse and I think giving all of you snapshots of their lives at whatever juncture it is at would be nicer than another linear fic. I don’t think I can do justice to a sequel for Sleeping Beauty. I do realise that another chaptered fic would mean somewhat guaranteed chapters from me with steady updates, but I hope all of you will be happy with the random drabbles and oneshots every now and again instead.
AN2: My husband is out of town, and he called me as I was writing this and I burst into tears at his voice, scaring him so much that he had wanted to jump on the next plane home. I got an “Oh, baby…” when I told him why I was crying. I miss him like hell. Strange isn’t it? Everyone who meets me or knows me thinks of me as this independent ball-busting no-nonsense bitch, but my husband is my achilles heel… I hate him for it sometimes tbh… But there you have it. For a couple that got married 10 days after meeting at 16, I think we’ve done alright… nine year anniversary in June ;____;