Genre: High School fic
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 MARRIED WOOT!!!!! In December maybe? :P
Summary: He fears the darkness, but yet hides in it. Shadows follow him wherever he goes whether awake or asleep. No one knows him, yet everyone knows of him. Everyone except another boy in his year. A rebel without a cause some say. Two boys who don’t know the existence of the other, until a chance encounter under the bright moonlight as they both search for the one thing they need that they cannot seem to get.
AN2: I hate first person fics. Hate. I couldn’t read Hunger Games because it was in the first person, but then I hate a lot of things that I end up writing. I dislike angst, I dislike band fics, I dislike smut, I dislike gender switching…and yet I’ve written them all. So why not add another thing I dislike to the mix and see what happens? I really don’t think anyone can be more of a masochist than me.
AN3: Also wrote this in under 3 hours and all mistakes are mine. I’m sure there’s a million since I haven’t slept in over 24 hours…
I can hear the blood roaring in my ears as my hands tremble, reaching for the doorknob, yet faltering once again at the last minute. I really need to do this but I can’t seem to bring myself to. It’s just a fucking bedroom. It’s just my fucking bedroom, so why can’t I enter it?
The hallway light is bright. Much too bright for 2am in the morning, but I really don’t give a fuck. Everyone in this too-large house is asleep anyway.
Everyone but me.
It’s the same story day after day, night after night. I try to surreptitiously keep my bedroom door open, and all the lights on in the room regardless of whether it is day or night, but every single time I leave it, even if it’s for five minutes to run down to get something to eat, I return to find the lights off and the door shut.
For all intents and purposes, he is my brother.
Soccer captain and the most popular boy in school. Add choir soloist and dancing machine to that, and you have the most ridiculously over-achieving person I have ever had the misfortune to meet.
Ok, perhaps not completely overachieving since I’m still beating him in every class even in my sleep.
Anyway, back to Junsu. My height, give or take half an inch, bottle blonde but it works on him. A colour I can’t even dream of pulling off, but let’s not go there. For all his popularity, Junsu is the sweetest boy in the world.
It makes me sick.
It’s not his fault. I just hate being touched. I hate people getting into my space. I just hate anything to do with people. Give me a room, brightly lit of course, a laptop and fast internet and I’ll be content.
Oh, and a full kitchen attached to the room would be great.
Junsu is the most ridiculously touchy feely person I have ever met. He’s like a little puppy that constantly needs to be petted.
I don’t get it. How does anyone live like that?
But I digress.
The reason I am fucking standing outside my own fucking bedroom in my pajamas is because of Kim Junsu. It was just two minutes. Two miserable minutes. I’d run down to get something to eat because I’d missed dinner because I had to makeup some stupid math test.
Two fucking minutes.
And I come back to a shut door, and the lights clearly out. I can see the darkness from under the door and it makes my skin crawl. The familiar feeling of panic is starting to take root, grabbing me from my toes and working its way upwards, paralyzing me. You know how snakes shed their skin? I feel like someone is encasing me in skin that is much too tight, and then slowly squeezing the life out of me. My chest is constricting, and I know if I don’t move soon, I’m going to go into a full blown panic attack and then I’ll have Hyorin on my case again.
Looking at her, you will know exactly where Junsu gets his ridiculous personality from. His mother is the bubbliest person I have ever seen. Not even the bubbliest adult.
Adult, teen, child, infant.
She trumps them all.
Almost as tall as her son, gifted with a figure that would make any male or female that way inclined to weep in wonder, Hyorin is the strangest person I have ever met.
When I was told that I would be moving out of the orphanage into yet another foster home, I wanted to die. Plain and simple. I even had the blade ready, and all my meager belongings packed away with little notes on them for whom they would go to.
My dog-eared assortment of books to little Jinki because that boy is smart, and had it not been for his unfortunate lot in life, he would’ve been great.
My sweater to Taemin because I know the little sneak had been coveting it forever. Unfortunately for him, I’ve been in the system much longer than he has and I know jolly well how to keep hold of my things.
My battered badminton racket to Minho, our resident sports freak who is happy as long as he is playing a sport.
My book of recipes to Kibum because that boy has a little housewife soul, and in all honesty, his talent for cooking might even rival mine.
I had it all planned. There was no fucking way I was going to another foster home. No way. I’d sooner die first.
But then Hyorin turns up too early. An entire day too early. A whirlwind of smiles and giggles that is a complete contrast to how a woman in her mid 30s ought to be acting. All the women I’ve ever known in that age bracket have been stoic, unsmiling, grumpy and just plain uncaring.
But Hyorin? She is the epitome of sunshine.
I’m going to be honest here and admit that what first caught my eye was her bouncing tits.
Every time she moved, something jiggled. And they jiggled enough to tell me that those things jutting out from her chest were real.
Imagine my shock when those tits bounced their way right into my face and I suddenly, literally, found myself suffocated in them.
I had been right. They were real.
Soft, squishy, perfumed…and the reason why I’m currently here.
I had shrieked.
Screamed bloody murder and shoved her away.
I remember the look of shock on her face, and then instead of simply walking away and leaving me be, her voice drops, and she starts to sing.
Singing as if I’m a fucking five year old who needs to be soothed.
But her voice. Dear god, her voice. Is this what angels sound like? I remember thinking that. Any further screams dying on my lips as I stared at her in wonder as she sang softly to me, the lyrics of the song a message in itself, a promise of love. But what really sold it for me was the way she reacted when the orphanage administrator came rushing it, yelling at me for being a stupid kid blowing what is probably the final chance I will ever get at being adopted.
She stood up, whirling around, and the sunshine turned into a virago of epic proportions. By the time she was done, I am sure the administrator was whimpering his apologies.
The next ten minutes were a blur of goodbyes. Tearful ones from my four companions, but I was numb. I was actually going to another home.
Something I hated.
But Hyorin…how does anyone say no to her?
She’d been careful from then on, asking if she can hug me, hold my hand, anything really. And I feel awful for saying no each and every time. I see the light faltering in her eyes every time I say no, but then she smiles brightly, before nodding and moving away.
Her son did not get the memo though.
I have learned through sheer willpower and the need for self-preservation not to scream every time he throws his arm around my shoulder, or flings himself next to me on the bed, or hip checks me in the kitchen.
The bed is the worse.
Several times I have almost given myself a concussion or bruised ribs, rolling off the bed as quickly as I can and landing in a heap on the floor.
He finds it funny, but I know he means no harm.
He just doesn’t know.
No one does.
I think Hyorin suspects, but I’m getting good at changing the subject whenever she starts asking questions a little too probing for my liking.
That was six months ago.
Six months in this house filled with light from the other two occupants.
Oh, did I forget to mention Hyorin is a single mother? Her husband died when Junsu was ten and left her a fuck load of money. And I mean a fuck load. This house has ten bedrooms, a library, a music room, a media room, a gym, a pool and an assortment of various living spaces.
So why would a woman like that look for a second child in an orphanage?
”Junsu wanted a brother.”
And just like that, here I am. I was the oldest kid in the orphanage, the next one being Kibum at 10 and that was too young. I know I’m a disappointing brother though. I have to be. I don’t play sport. I don’t dance. I can barely find my way around a piano, and I sure as hell am not going to attempt singing with Hyorin and Junsu in the same room.
I have to be a disappointment for the effervescent Kim Junsu.
And yet again, I’m surprised.
Junsu seems more than content to just have someone he can talk to at home while his mother, no, our mother is out at work. You’d think for a boy with as many activities as he does would be away from home constantly, but no, Junsu is almost always home by dinner time.
And on the nights I’m cooking? He is home by hook or by crook.
My hand finally drops from the doorknob, giving up the fight. It’s no use. I cannot open the door, and Junsu will forever be turning my lights off and shutting the door if he sees I’m not around. I can tell him not to of course, but the curious boy will ask a million questions I am just not prepared to answer, so I leave it.
I head to the study. It is dark, but the door is thrown wide open so the strong light from the hallway penetrates the inky darkness. Even then, I pause on the threshold, taking a deep fortifying breath, steeling myself for what I am about to do.
Barely ten seconds later I am back out in the bright light, chest heaving. I can practically feel my eyes popping out of my head as I grip my homework in my right hand. I could’ve turned the lights on, and done my homework in the study, but after the mild panic attack in front of my bedroom door, I knew I had to get out.
Out in the open.
Without the four walls surrounding me.
Closing in on me, as my mind is once again assaulted by memories I have struggled to tame for a good three years.
Being unable to sleep for three years will take a toll on a person. I am skinnier than most boys my age, but I’ve been working out over the last six months. There’s only so much homework a person can do without running out. So while still skinny in general, my waist girlishly small, my arms and shoulders have filled out from utilizing the weights in the gym room.
My feet move as if on automaton, down the sweeping staircase towards the back of the house, and before I know it, I’m inhaling the crisp cool air of autumn. It is thankfully mild, but I shiver nonetheless as I walk out past the covered pool to the very edge of the property.
To a stone bench that had been erected in the memory of Junsu’s father. The bench overlooks the city, with its sparkling lights winking teasingly at me. I don’t mind this darkness. The darkness of outdoors. The shadows of the trees, in the bright moonlight. Out here, I can run.
But in there…there is no place to go.
I am almost upon my seat when I suddenly realise that the bench is occupied. A shadowed figure standing in profile with a booted foot resting rather negligently on the seat, elbow resting on it as he inhales his cigarette.
It has to be a boy. The figure is masculine. Very tall. Taller than me. Broad, yet slim. I cannot see his face in the shadows but the profile I am given is enough to tell me the boy, or man, has to be impossibly handsome.
Is that why I keep walking instead of running?
But my steps falter as the ember at the end of his cigarette lights up, glowing against the darkness, before he tosses it away. I cannot help the squeak of dismay as I hurry to stomp on the discarded butt. It may be cool, and the grass may be damp, but I am not willing to chance it as I press out the butt as forcefully as I can before looking up and glaring at the person who is now turned towards me.
“Who the fuck are you? This is private property.”
Oh god his voice. What is it with me and voices? I blame Hyorin and Junsu. It’s their fault. It has to be. I never cared about voices before I met them. His is nothing like their’s though.
Low, raspy, probably from the smoke.
And exceedingly flinty.
It is that belligerence that gets my attention.
He speaks as if he should be here.
“You. This is my bench.”
The boy makes a show of leaning over to peer at the seat. I know he is looking at the backrest where the dearly departed Mr. Kim’s name is engraved for all to see.
The silence stretches, and then I hear a click, and suddenly his face is illuminated by his lighter as he uses it to read the engraving. Making a show of it in fact.
My breath catches in my throat, and I swear I’m about to have a panic attack all over again.
But this feels different. The panic seems to be coming from my belly rather than my chest. Who the fuck has a panic attack of the belly?
The boy is beautiful. Stunning. Ridiculously so. Sharp nose, a jaw that could cut glass, no diamond. Definitely diamond. His eyes are smaller than mine, as he squints in the dim light. And his mouth…what the hell kind of mouth is that?
“Your name is Kim Junho?”
“Then this isn’t your fucking bench.”
And with those words, the boy lowers his foot from the seat, and proceeds to sprawl on it, lying back against the entire length of the bench, his hands behind his head as I gape at his audacity.
My mouth is unhinged. I’m not entirely sure why.
Perhaps it’s because of the ridiculous hour where most sane people are asleep.
Perhaps I’m still a little dumbfounded by how gorgeous the boy is.
Perhaps I’m just too tired to think straight.
I don’t fucking know. Whatever it is, the boy was on my goddamn bench!
“This is private property.”
“You’re starting to sound like a broken record,” comes the lazy response. Almost a drawl.
“And you’re an ass. This bench is on my mother’s land and you are trespassing.”
At my words, the boy sits up, staring at me, his gaze raking me from head to toe. I know he cannot see much because even this close, I can barely make out his features, and I know what he looks like.
“You’re not Kim Junsu.”
“That’s my brother.”
“Junsu doesn’t have a brother.”
“Yes, he does.”
“No, he doesn’t. I’ve been living next door to him and his MILF for the the last five years. I know he doesn’t have a brother.”
“Watch your words. That’s my mother you’re talking about.”
“What? She’s a MILF. She knows it, and milks it for all its worth. You’d have to be gay not to feel even a twitch at those tits.”
Before I could even think about it, I’d thrown my math homework into his face.
Instead of getting angry, the boy merely laughs.
The sound breaks the oppressiveness of the night, but there is no real humour in it. In fact, the sound is rather off.
I stay silent as he once again flicks his lighter on to peer at the papers I’d thrown at him.
The orange glow lights up his face, and I can see the twist of his lips as he stares at the paper in his hand, eyes blinking as if unable to believe what he is seeing. I take the time to stare at him a little more, and almost groan when the flame goes off for the second time that night…or morning. Whatever.
“You’re trying to defend your alleged mother’s honour with…calculus?”
“What’s wrong with calculus?”
“Nothing’s wrong with calculus, but you got questions three and five wrong.”
“And how would you know?”
“Because I have the same homework,” comes the amused reply. And this time, there is a definite tinge of amusement in the husky voice.
“You go to Joseon College?”
“Yes, I go to JC. You must be new. I haven’t heard anyone call it by any other name except JC since my brother was a freshman there, and he’s in his third year of university.”
“I don’t remember you.”
“I’m not around much.”
“Yet you’re around enough to know I got my calculus homework wrong?”
The boy shrugs, before gathering up my papers, and tossing them carelessly onto the ground as he lies back on my bench.
The boy lets out an irritated sound, but he does not move. He moves his hands from behind his head, throwing an arm over his face instead, covering his eyes.
“Hey! I’m talking to you.”
“I know. I’m trying to pretend you’re not here.”
“You’re on my bench.”
Even to my ears, I’m starting to sound like a broken record. But damn it. He really is in my spot. I still have another fucking two hours to go before sunrise and when I can get back into my room without Hyorin or Junsu being any wiser, and this boy, beautiful or not, is ruining it.
“I think we’ve established that your name is not Kim Junho and therefore this is not your bench.”
“But I live here, and that bench is on my mother’s property and therefore you are trespassing.”
The boy finally sits up once again with an extremely irritated huff. He throws a leg across so he is straddling the bench as he digs around in his pocket. Another cigarette emerges, and he lights it quickly, inhaling deeply.
I wait as he exhales, the smell of smoke wafting towards me. The breeze is light, and blowing away from me so all I get is a little hint of smoke, nothing more.
“Look, kid. I don’t know you from a bar of soap. If you are who you say, then I guess you do have some sort of claim on this bench.”
I was about to retort, when he lifts his hand, as if asking for silence, and I give it to him.
“But this is not your property. There was a mistake by the surveyor, and while the bench may have been erected by the MILF, the property it is sitting on belongs to my father. The rents are friends, though I really think Daddy-O is trying to get into your mother’s pants, not that I blame him. I’d tap that too if I liked tits and ass on a woman.”
I deflate at his words. The urge to fight no longer there because I really am tired, and if what he says is true then I have nothing going for me anyway. Hyorin’s bench is there out of the dubious ‘kindness’ of “Daddy-O”. His other words are mere background noise, my brain not quite coping with it all. This is why I leave math as my last piece of homework because it keeps me awake. Strange but true. All that struggling to understand stupid math concepts I see no need for actually keeps my brain alert and me awake. Don’t ask me how that works. It just does.
I cannot help the soft sigh that escapes as I bend over to gather up my homework.
It is painstaking, and I know I am moving a lot slower than usual.
But I did not realise how bad it was till I felt myself being nudged.
Ass on the cold grass, I jerk awake, my skin tightening and suffocating me again. That familiar feeling whenever someone touches me. But when I look around, the boy is nowhere close. In fact, he is still on the bench, staring at me.
“I think you should go to bed. You actually dozed off as you gathered your papers.”
“Did you touch me?” I hiss, the words almost strangled in my throat as I fight the wave of panic threatening to overwhelm me.
“Why would I touch you? You were squatting, and then just tipped over as you dozed off. I simply watched.”
I suck in air, trying to calm myself, eyes on the boy’s, even though I cannot actually see them. For some reason his presence comforts me rather than makes me panic. I have no idea why.
“Are you ok?”
“I’ll be fine,” I manage to croak out as I force my body to move before the strange boy asks any further questions.
The silence is brief, because as I finish picking up the final piece of paper, he speaks again.
“You can sit here if you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”
I nod, grateful to be able to stay, and to a certain extent, for the company.
I settle next to him. Ok, maybe not quite next to him. Perhaps more like at the other end of the bench, my ass half hanging off it as I try and balance my papers in my lap, squinting in the darkness, trying to make out the numbers.
Even as I squint, the moon breaks free from the clouds, and its bright light shines down on the bench in the middle of a hillside overlooking the city.
I am almost done with the first correction of question three when the husky voice of the boy next to me breaks the silence again.
“What’s your name?”
“Who’s your daddy…?” I reply rather unhelpfully, but the way he had asked it has a certain lilt to it that reminds me of the song Hyorin and Junsu sometimes sing together in the kitchen that brings a smile to my face. Unnoticed by me, I had sung it rather than asked it.
“Is he rich like me?” The boy sings back, and I feel my skin shivering as his low tone, much much lower than Junsu’s voice washes over me in the semi-darkness.
“And how rich are you?”
“That isn’t the next line.”
“I don’t know the next line.”
“Does it matter how rich I am?”
Suddenly he chuckles.
"Do you know who sings that song?"
"No...Hyo- Mum sings it with Junsu sometimes."
"That's who sang the song originally. The Zombies. Rather apt don't you think?"
I smile, but I don't reply, and he breaks the silence again.
“Why are you out here?”
“I can’t sleep.”
He makes a scoffing sound, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I saw you fall asleep right before my eyes. I can say you most certainly can sleep.”
I shake my head, mirroring him as I hug my homework to my chest. I don’t know why I’m even talking to this strange boy at what is probably close to four in the morning, but I feel an inexplicable closeness to him. Like we are kindred spirits or something. This is one hell of a hundred and eighty degree turnaround on my behaviour, but for the life of me, I cannot seem to bring myself to get up and walk away.
I answer him instead.
“I can’t. It’s hard to explain but I really can’t. I get maybe five to ten minute bursts here or there but I cannot relax enough to sleep properly. What about you? Why are you out here?”
“I just can’t. How is it I’ve never seen you before today?”
I know a deflection when I hear it, being so good at doing it myself. I let him get away with it because I know exactly how it feels to have people pry, and you really just wanting to tell them to fuck off.
However, something tells me this boy would smile if I told him to fuck off.
Yes, definitely smirk. He seems the smirky sort.
“I don’t know. I mostly stay by the pool area with my feet in the water because it’s been so warm. I guess I just felt like wandering further afield today.”
He nods, accepting my answer, and I know for certain that he does not want prying questions back.
“So what’s your name, kid?”
“I’m not a kid if we’re in the same year.”
“I’m born early in the year so pretty much everyone is younger than me. Junsu, one of the youngest.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“Hah!” My voice is vaguely triumphant, oddly pleased at finally getting one over the other boy.
“Mine’s February 4.”
“Why would I lie about that?”
There is a brief pause, as he appears to ruminate on something. What it is becomes clear with his next comment.
“You can be Junsu’s long-lost brother then since he’s born in December. That MILF sure as hell didn’t waste any time did she?”
“Stop calling her that.”
“I will if you tell me your name.”
“Jaejoong, Kim Jaejoong.”
“Bond, James Bond.”
A giggle slips out. There is nothing to it. I have never giggled in my life and yet, what escapes my lips is most definitely a giggle.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Of course you don’t. If you go to JC you must be somewhat smart, if not rich. I guess you live here so perhaps you’re rich and not smart.”
“Why are you being an ass, Mr. Bond?”
He chuckles, low and deep and the sound resonates in the pit of my stomach, shimmering out like the ripples in a pond after a stone has been cast in the middle of it. The warmth is welcome, and alien, and I feel comforted.
“It’s Yunho. Jung Yunho.”
AN: I got like this a lot. This story. Especially when I was younger. People used to marvel at how I could stay up for three days straight and still function at university. Sometimes it really wasn’t by choice. I was even prescribed sleeping pills but I never took them… not one at a time anyway. I have no clue if this has been done before. As y’all know, I don’t read a lot of fics. Unfortunately, I disabled comments lmao! So if you want to give me feedback, you may do so in a variety of ways…
Anonymously via ask.fm/jungyunwhore
Succinctly via Twitter @JungYunWhore
Lengthily via email firstname.lastname@example.org
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