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All skin and no shame

...innocence is just an illusion...


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All I Need Is... [2]
YJ06
beeswaxing
Title: All I Need Is...
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: PG
Length: Chaptered
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.

AN: Wrote this mostly at work and all mistakes are mine. It's probably a little choppy because I was literally writing in between ANY free time and chance I got at work despite being derailed for a bit by Yunho and his motherfucking Checkmate performance...fuck my life...

AINI02











There is only one reason why I’m at school today, and that reason isn’t here.

Close to dawn, just when that hint of light comes up over the horizon, I must have dozed off. I’d spent at least a good two hours next to the boy next door, but it is all clouded in shadow. He had sat in such a way that I could just make out his profile as he pored over his homework. He is actually better than I expected despite the careless mistakes on that first page. I’d offered to check it when he finished, but must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, that chill of approaching dawn hits me.

And with it comes an empty bench.

I can’t quite figure out if I’m relieved or annoyed that he had disappeared before I could get a good look at his face. Seems unfair that he knows what I look like and I haven’t a fucking clue what he looks like.

Six months.

He’s been here six months and we haven’t met. It’s unsurprising really. They’d only just let me out of JD last month. Spending my days there rather than in school had been a monumental waste of my time. Assholes littered the joint, all trying to suck me into their mind games and petty crimes.

A bloody nose here and a broken arm there, and they all knew to steer clear of me.

I’m way past whatever those kids ever want to be. Breaking and entering? Try murder.

I hate people.

They’re all fuckwits. Stupid. So caught up in their own lives they cannot see what is right in front of them. My father is the worst culprit of all.

Two perfect sons and then came the third.

Me.

The useless one.

The one who killed his wife.

As if it’s my fucking fault they decided to try for a girl despite the doctor’s warnings.

But of course, for reasons unknown to me which only serves to reinforce how fucking selfish he is, the blame lands on my newborn head when my mother died giving birth to me.

I lived with his resentment. I tried to be a good son like my older brothers, but he never had time for me. He preferred anyone and everyone over me. And he preferred anyone but him looking after me.

When I was ten, I’d fallen asleep at home, and woken up in the back of a car as my driver wakes me apologetically to tell me that we’re here.

My father had shipped me off to summer camp for a month without telling me.

Do you know what kind of emotional scarring that leaves on a ten year old? To finally realise you are so unwanted your parent didn’t even bother to wake you to say goodbye. Didn’t bother to tell you that you had to go. Just didn’t fucking bother.

Not to mention the camp was for older kids and I spent most of it locked in a closet.

I haven’t told anyone about it.

Not Yoochun.

And certainly not Changmin.

The perfect oldest son. Changmin can do no wrong, and I have been trying my best for the last seven years to be the complete opposite to him.

Fuck them.

But that camp changed everything.

Not just my distrust of my father, but it just changed everything.

Being locked in a closet is one thing, but one particular night, some boys decided hey why not kidnap the youngest ones in the camp and take them on a joyride in a car belonging to a camp counselor. The fuckers didn’t have a fucking clue how to drive, and it ended in disaster.

We landed in the lake. I remember screaming. Screaming and screaming as the car slowly filled with water. Everything in slow motion. And the face of the boy trapped next to me, in his panic, unable to release himself from his seatbelt. And I…where was I? Too busy trying to get myself out. His face is all I can see. All I can remember. Mouth frozen in a silent scream. I am an even better swimmer than Changmin but that day, everything changed.

You see, I’m a murderer.

I let that boy die when I could have helped him.

I have not been able to sleep since that camp.

His face haunts my dreams. Sometimes the faces are interchanged. Sometimes the face belongs to Changmin, and sometimes Yoochun. There are times when even my dad’s face appears. And the worst one of all.

My mother.

I killed her too.

I’m a murderer.

I vaguely remember Changmin. My big brother Changmin, breaking the faces of the two fuckwits who had taken the car in the first place. He had been so angry. So very angry. But he did not once check to see if I was ok. He was too busy getting mad at those boys.

Yoochun was crying. I remember that. I remember thinking why the fuck is he crying when I’m the one throwing up water. I was the one who had almost died so why he is crying? But then killing someone made me lose something that day. I lost any feelings for anything and anyone.

Why bother?

I was beyond redemption. Beyond hope of salvation. I just became numb. Numb to everything. Like I had no right to feel anything. I could have saved that boy, but I didn’t. I just wanted to get out and save myself.

I was doomed from birth, so why not live up to it?

Yoochun is tolerable. School president of fucking course, just like Changmin a few years before him. However he is less bossy, patronising and all around less insufferable. Yoochun is actually pretty cool for a school president. He isn’t the captain of the chess team, debate team, table tennis team and basketball team like Changmin. In fact, he isn’t really part of any actual clubs, but he gets by on his charm and wit, and his ability to be anything and everything for anyone. My brother is a chameleon of the highest order, and a very persuasive and compelling one at that in whatever shape or form he chooses to be in.

The bastard could probably charm all the nuclear weapons from North Korea.

And that’s saying something.

The popular student body president with the douche bag junior for a brother.

Yoochun learned early on to leave me to my own devices. A few times he’d tried to talk my teachers out of giving me detention and yet another mark against my school record which I will apparently be taking all the way to my grave, but I’d gone off at him enough about it that he’s taken the let live and let lie approach.

I don’t bug him, and he doesn’t bug me.

And seriously, who the actual fuck cares about a high school record?

After the incidents at the camp, I’d enrolled myself in self-defence class the second I got back. I didn’t talk to my asshole father for over a year.

Probably more.

In fact, the words I’ve exchanged with him in this year alone can probably be counted on my fingers and toes.

And it is already October.

He never apologised. Not once. I can feel him staring at me sometimes, and when I catch him looking, I always see regret etched on his face. Regretting my existence, no doubt. There have been countless times when I felt that perhaps if I just died, it would be better for everyone.

But then I’m not going to give that bastard the satisfaction.

I don’t enjoy living.

But my existence gives me joy knowing it is thwarting everyone around me.

But the one thing that tortures me, and has been torturing me for years, is my inability to sleep.

If I sleep, I will dream.

With the dreams comes the pain.

And there is only so much physical damage I can do to myself to distract me from that pain.

Because in all honesty, there is absolutely no distraction.

There is nothing strong enough to distract from the simple fact that I am a murderer.

My subconscious knows it so well that it has spent the last seven years refusing to let me get a decent night’s sleep.

I cannot.

And if this is the price I have to pay for my sins, then I will pay it.

But I will make my father pay too.

“Am I seeing things? Are you actually in school?”

My dark thoughts are interrupted by the voice and face of my smirking older brother. Yoochun drops heavily onto the bench of the picnic table I am sitting on. I’ve been sitting out here instead of going to my classes after not seeing the boy from last night in math. There is only one advanced math class in this school, and he wasn’t in it when that homework he was doing last night clearly indicated that he should be, and I’d been more than a little angry.

Angry at myself more than anything.

Why the fuck did I bother to come to school for some skinny little kid who is allegedly older than me?

But there is something about the boy. Something that tells me that he has a pain of his own, and perhaps he might be able to understand mine.

Everyone judges me here. The youngest son of one of the top neurosurgeons in the country. Actually, I’m being modest. He is the top neurosurgeon in the country. Perhaps in East Asia. My father knows brains like nothing else. And yet he knows fuck all about mine.

But this boy is new. Untainted. I can feel it.

I could have scared him away last night. In fact, had it been anyone else, I would have bloodied him up pretty badly just for the hell of it.

But something stopped me.

Perhaps it was the indignance in his tone.

A strange indignance that is underlaid by almost an odd feeling of resignation. As if he is used to being disappointed. And the actual fear I sensed and heard in the tremble of his voice when he accused me of touching him. That made my insides twist painfully. I recognise the pain. I see it in myself. It is the same, but yet it is different, and I could not hurt him anymore than he is already hurting.

If I had bloodied him up, it would have just served to reinforce whatever pain he is going through.

I may be a so-called rebel. But I am not a bastard.

Well, no, perhaps I am. But I’m definitely not the sort to kick a dog while it’s down.

And that boy was definitely down.

I just wish I’d gotten a glimpse of his face.

“Penny for your thoughts, brother mine.”

“You don’t want to know my fucking thoughts, Micky.” I growl, digging into my pockets to procure a cigarette.

As the cancer stick hangs limp from my lips as I search myself for my lighter, my older brother simply stares. He stares and stares and he finally sighs, digging into his own pocket to toss me his lighter.

“You smoke?” My voice is incredulous, my mask faltering slightly as my cigarette actually tumbles from my slackened lips, because come on, this is golden boy number two. Changmin would sooner stab himself than smoke and I know Yoochun is heading that way. Not quite as extreme as our dearest big brother currently hell bent on being the best law student in the whole of Asia or something, but he is definitely getting there.

Yoochun colours slightly. I can actually see the tinge of red in his cheeks as he shrugs self-consciously.

“Yeah, I smoke. It calms me and helps me focus. Not all of us were born with Minnie’s brain.”

“He’d have your ass for that,” I mutter out of habit. Changmin hates being called Minnie.

Micky and Minnie.

What the hell were our parents thinking?

“Well, he’s not here so whatever.”

“Ooooooh is Micky rebelling? No longer trying to emulate our perfect big brother?”

“Shut up, asshole.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, I like it. Who knows, maybe I’ll see you in JD one of these days. First smoking, next could be grand theft auto.”

“Why do you insist on doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being this way. You missed six months of school and yet in a month you’ve already caught up on all your classes. Why are you wasting yourself like this? I know Changmin is secretly envious at how easily everything comes to you, and yet you choose to throw it away.”

I suck hard on my cigarette, relishing the burn in my chest as I hold the smoke in and let it linger. I hate it when Yoochun gets like this. Why the fuck does he care?

I don’t bother answering, dropping my foot off the picnic table I am sitting on and placing it on the seat next to him as I finish my cigarette. I can hear Yoochun huffing as my boot nudges his thigh, but he says nothing, shifting aside instead as I lounge back to stare back at the school building, my sunglasses obscuring my view.

I guess my brother is smart after all.

I stare out at the rest of the student body milling about around the school grounds. It is lunchtime, and has been since Yoochun materialised in front of me, but it doesn’t matter. Time has ceased to mean anything to me. Day might as well be night and vice versa. None of my teachers bother me about classes anymore. I do my homework and that’s good enough for them. In fact, most of them prefer that I did not come to class. People tend to get hurt when I’m in class.

What can I say? People are always looking for trouble.

What was that saying? Don’t trouble trouble till trouble troubles you?

At least it seems like my schoolmates are finally learning a thing or two. Yoochun usually travels around the school with a posse. I kid you not, he travels around with a motherfucking entourage. Anyone watching would think he’s some lame ass idol surrounded by groupies.

But right now, every single one of his normal gang are keeping a safe and respectful distance away. They know better than to come near me.

It’s not that I’m violent.

I just hate people.

And it shows.

I lick at my dry lips as I toss the butt of my cigarette away carelessly, absentmindedly noting Yoochun doing the same thing the boy from last night did, as he chases it down to stomp it out.

Yoochun speaks as he grinds his heel over the butt. “You know, I think I should hang out with you more. It’s really nice being able to actually hear myself think for once. I always thought I needed people, but it’s actually pretty fucking nice just sitting here quietly.”

“You are such a girl.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It is when you’re a boy.”

I lean back on my elbows, tilting my head back to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. I’m breaking school rules by not wearing my uniform, but no one’s said anything yet so whatever. The silence is actually not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be with Yoochun. I can feel his presence next to me as he chuckles.

“Incoming.”

I don’t even bother moving, closing my eyes instead as the fatigue suddenly hits and my vision wavers slightly. I drop back completely onto the picnic table, hands clasped behind my head just like they were this morning on the bench.

Why the fuck do I keep thinking about early this morning?

I can feel lethargy taking over me, and I wonder if I can catch a ten minute nap when Yoochun’s words actually cut through the fog in my mind, and the sound of giggling can be heard.

“Oppa!”

Who the fuck talks like that? Screeching like that?

“Hey, Ye Eun.”

Great. Yoochun’s fucking harem is here. I keep my eyes resolutely shut, trying to block my ears from the annoying voices, but there’s nothing to it as I hear other voices joining hers.

“Oppa, where have you been? We haven’t see you in so long.”

I don’t bother answering because that’s a stupid thing to say to me. The whole fucking school knew exactly where I was since the cars I’d destroyed had been in this very parking lot.

Five cars.

Four cans of spray paint.

Three crow bars.

Two baseball bats.

And one very fucked off Jung Yunho.

It had taken not just my father but also Changmin and Yoochun to persuade the school not to kick me out. They’d been content instead to have me serve JD for six months in exchange for the promise that when I came back, I would stay out of trouble.

And yet here are these girls, looking for trouble.

Have I mentioned that I hate people?

“Oppa…are you coming to the party?”

I can hear Yoochun responding, his tone vastly amused as he is no doubt enjoying the attention of the girls. He’d admitted once that my reputation has a trickle down effect on his popularity with the opposite sex. Well, better him than me. Girls do jack shit for me.

I suppose that was the only good thing about JD. Lots of willing holes.

My head is finally foggy enough to actually block out the irritating noises around me, but just as I find myself on the brink of sweet oblivion for whatever minutes I can get, a piercing scream cuts through the lunchtime chatter.

I bolt upright. My heart pounding. The scream is so familiar.

It is as if time stands still, everyone looking at each other, when the scream comes again, and if possible, even more piercing than the last.

“What the fuck?” Yoochun mutters, but I am already on my feet and running.

I know that scream. I’ve heard it before.

From myself.

Whoever is screaming is absolutely terrified.

The screaming starts again, and this time it doesn’t stop. And I follow the sound.

It leads me to the bleachers, where three guys are standing by someone crumpled on the ground.

That is where the screaming is coming from.

A haze of red clouds my vision, and I move without really thinking about it.

One asshole goes down.

Then the second.

The third runs before I can get to him.

And then I see it.

Blood.

On a white shirt.

Jet black hair, and pale pale skin. She has her hands over her ears and screaming, and I have never heard such terror in my life.

Not since the lake.

I turn and yank one of the boys on the ground by his collar, ignoring his split lip and the beginnings of a bruise on his jaw. His eyes are wide with fright as they stare at me, and I can see my reflection in his pupils.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“N-n-nothing. I s-s-swear.”

“I’m going to ask you again. And if I don’t like your answer, I am going to break your fingers one by one.”

“I s-s-swear. We were playing…playing soccer. Waiting for J-J-Junsu, and the ball hit Jae-Jae-Jaej—“

I tighten my fist, choking the boy I now recognise as Donghae.

“Yunho!”

I feel myself being yanked backwards, and Yoochun is in front of me, absolutely furious.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t go around beating people up like that!”

I shove him away, not caring as he lands on his ass, stalking back to the girl who is now whimpering. I can see the source of the blood. It is dripping from her nose, and she is shaking. I can practically smell the fear.

I recognise the outfit. She’s in my math class, seated in the back row like me. Her lips were as red as her skin was pale and her hair black. That’s all I remember apart from the ill-fitting white shirt. It looks like a man’s shirt actually. The reason she’d caught my eye in the first place is because she’d nodded off about halfway through the lesson which made me smirk.

I don’t know what to do. I came because of the screaming, and now that she’s stopped, I feel myself ceasing to care once again. Like the proverbial milk of human kindness is flowing out of me.

I take a step back, and then another, my head clouding over once again as the effort of punching those boys hits me. The lack of sleep and my overall tiredness causes my steps to falter as I struggle to remain upright.

So much for adrenaline.

There is a blur of movement and Junsu materialises out of nowhere, crouching down next to her. He is whispering, and as I watch, she flinches away, and I see red once again.

My feet move before I can command them to stop, and next thing I know, it is now the captain of the soccer team struggling to free himself from my grasp of his collar.

“Don’t you think you and your friends have done enough?”

Wide tear drop eyes stare back at me, confusion clouding them. Not fear.

“Enough? What do you mean?”

“Your friends made her like that.”

“Her?” And if it is possible, Junsu expression becomes even more confused.

“Su, we’re so sorry. The ball hit him in the face, and then he just went nuts. We didn’t mean for it to hit him. Hyukkie tried to pull him up, but then he started to scream.”

I turn to my right to look at Donghae who is now on his feet, cupping his swollen jaw as he speaks to Junsu, carefully avoiding my gaze.

“Him?” I let Junsu go, and he steps back, shaking his head as he crouches back down once again. Now I’m the one confused.

“My brother,” he says curtly as he tries once again to try and talk to the figure still trembling and shaking on the ground.

Jaejoong.

My eyes widen, and I am more than fucking grateful in that instance for the sunglasses I still have on my nose.

That is Jaejoong?

The girl from my math class is a boy?

I block out everything, my brain just shuts everything out until my sole focus is the whimpering boy on the ground. He is shaking and sobbing, and yet every time Junsu tries to get closer, he flinches.

“Don’t touch him.”

“What?” Junsu looks up, mouth aghast.

“I said, don’t fucking touch him.”

“He’s my brother!”

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. Don’t touch him.”

“What the hell?”

But I ignore him, crouching down next to Jaejoong, but keeping a careful distance.

“Jae…Jaejoong, it’s me. Yunho.”

His shaking doesn’t cease, but the sobbing seems to quieten down slightly, and so I keep talking.

“I’m not going to let anyone touch you, ok? But you need to get your nose checked out. Does it hurt?”

I almost miss the tiny nod.

“Can you walk?”

Jaejoong seems to freeze up, and then he starts shaking again, head down and the sobs come back in earnest. I’m not sure why asking that appears to have agitated him, but when Junsu moves as if to carry him, I understand why as Jaejoong screams, throwing himself away from his brother, and landing himself against me.

He flinches back, but when he looks up and realises it is me, the fight goes out of him, and he sags against my side, trembling and whimpering, whispering desperately over and over again.

“Please…please…please…please…please…

“If you can’t walk, I’m going to have to carry you, Jae. Are you sure you’re ok with that?”

He shakes his head, curling up and moving away from me. I let him go.

I finally look up to see the crowd around us, whispering and staring. Even teachers are here but no one is doing anything to help. And that red haze comes back as I straighten up, pulling my sunglasses off my face.

“Get out of here.”

Everyone stares back as if unsure as to what I’ve just said. Are they deaf as well as dumb?

“I said, get the fuck out of here. Show’s over and unless you want my fist in your face, get the fuck out of here. And I really don’t care if you’re a guy or a girl.”

After a few seconds, they start to move.

Teachers included.

What the fuck?

In less than two minutes, the only ones left are Junsu and Yoochun, both staring at me as Jaejoong is practically curled up at my feet.

“You two go.”

“I’m not leaving my brother with you.”

“Hush, Su. It’ll be alright,” Yoochun answers quietly, eyes on me.

“But—“

“I trust my brother, and you trust me, don’t you?”

I smirk, as Junsu looks back and forth between the school president and the school’s resident bad boy. Not once does he look at Jaejoong, and my smirk disappears.

“Go.”

After one last glare my way, Junsu turns, accompanied by Yoochun.

I watch till they turn the corner and disappear out of sight.

Not once did Junsu turn, but Yoochun does.

A rather long look just before he disappears around the corner.

Perhaps there’s hope for that brother after all.

Jaejoong has stopped crying, but he is still shaking as if he’s cold, and I take off my jacket to drape it around him. He doesn’t flinch, instead, clutching the front of the jacket closed around him, his head still bent.

I sigh, dropping to the ground and sitting cross-legged opposite him.

The strange boy from last night.

I can’t decide how I feel about the fact that the boy appears to be far more broken then I can even imagine. I had glimpses last night, but today? This is broken on another level altogether.

“If you can’t walk, let me check your nose. I’ve broken enough to know what it looks like.”

A shaky, watery sound comes from those lips, and it hits me that Jaejoong is chuckling.

Or at least trying to.

“Find that funny do you?”

“A little…” A ghost of a whisper, in a familiar voice. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel better.

“Chin up then, Jae. I can’t look at your nose with your head down like that.”

Slowly, the other boy lifts his head.

And my world freezes mid-spin.

Large doe eyes, liquid still filling them, threatening to spill out stare at me from behind long eyelashes that should really belong on a girl.

Hell, what am I even saying? His entire face looks like it should belong to a girl.

But forget his face. His eyes, shining with tears, luminous with pain, and drowning in a hidden fear just staying a little out of reach from behind his gaze. Eyes so dark they are almost black and in that darkness, I see hope.

I feel like someone has just sucker punched me in the gut. He’d literally done the one thing no one has ever managed to do since I’d taken up martial arts.

I start coughing, choking even.

On air.

Or the lack of it.

The second I look away, I’m able to regain my bearings, but it is not for long as a soft whisper hits me.

“Are you ok?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I cannot help the belligerent growl in my tone, Jae throwing me so completely off balance that I’m eternally grateful that I am seated on the ground.

Jung Yunho; delinquent, criminal, murderer…losing his head and feet over a pretty face.

No, not a pretty face.

That’s not why I’m like this.

Darkness.

Eyes.

I see him flinch at my tone, his head dropping immediately and I can see him trembling, and regret is like a hot fire pouring through me.

I don’t feel regret. Not anymore. All my regret was used up that day at the lake.

But somehow that foreign feeling is coming back and I don’t like it.

I want to run away.

And I almost do.

But just before I can find my feet, Jae looks up at me. His chin trembling, tears spilling out again as he whispers a single word in the most defeated and heart-broken voice I have ever heard.

“Please…”

I sit back down, hugging my knees as I stare at him. “Your nose looks fine, but I can’t tell unless I touch it. The bleeding has stopped at least and that’s a good thing. Do you want me to touch you?”

His eyes widen as he shakes his head immediately, before closing his eyes and wincing. I guess his head is hurting a little too.

Perhaps the problem is how I phrased the question?

“Ok, let’s try that again, and just say yes or no, don’t move your head. Do you want me to check if your nose is broken?”

“Y-yes.”

“I need to touch you, and I know you don’t like being touched. I will use only two fingers, and if you feel any pain, let me know. If you start to panic, say stop and I will. Are you ok with this?”

“Y-y-y-yes.”

This time his stutter is truly bad, and my heart lurches in sympathy. He is terrified once again. I can feel it and I can see it as he chews on his bottom lip, eyes clenched shut and tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. I have a suspicion as to why he hates being touched, and the mere thought makes me want to send my fist through the nearest wall.

But I tamp down the urge as I poise my index fingers over the top of his nose.

“I’m going to stroke my fingers gently down the sides of your nose to feel if there are any irregularities ok? Any bumps I should know about?”

I cannot see any bumps, his nose is perfect. Aquiline and the skin looks so smooth, but I needed to distract him.

“N-n-n-n-oh-oh.”

His voice is shaking so badly it sounds more like a hiccup.

“Jae…you can do this yourself if you want. I don’t have to do it. Just feel your nose and see if you can feel anything wrong with it.”

“Please…”

No one has ever said please to me. I don’t really like it coming from Jae. He sounds like he’s begging for mercy, not asking for a favour.

“Do you want me to do it?”

“Y-y-yes.”

“Are you sure?”

There is a pause, and Jae opens his eyes. The tears are nothing compared to the fear I can see. But I can also see him fighting it. Fighting it and winning.

“Yes.”

And so I try once more, lifting my hands and hovering my fingers over his nose once again.

“Touching you now…” I whisper softly, giving him some warning before the rough pads of my finger meet the soft skin of his nose.

A shaky whimper escapes his lips, and I see him stiffening, but he does not move away. His eyes are on me, his stare unwavering as I slip my fingers slowly down his nose.

I see a flare of pain in his eyes just as my finger slips near the end of his nose, and I back up, moving over that bit again, as gently as I can manage, and his eyes widen in pain.

“Hurts there?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a little swollen, but I cannot feel anything broken beneath it. I might need to apply a little more pressure to check, and it will hurt. Do you want me to keep checking?”

“Please…”

There it is again. Please. I’m starting to hate the word.

I press down, and this time a gasp escapes his lips and I feel it against my thumbs. I never realised how close his mouth was to me till that instance.

“Nothing’s broken, just a bit of swelling. You’ll be alright with an ice pack to your nose for a bit.”

I had to fight to pull my hands away from him. His skin is so soft and smooth, and so very addictive. I just wanted to keep touching, but I know if I do, his screaming will haunt me.

“Th-thank you.”

“Why doesn’t your brother know you hate being touched?”

Jae’s eyes widen, and the fear once again starts pooling in his eyes.

“Was it Junsu who made you afraid?”

“No!” The answer is immediate, and vehement enough for me to believe the delicate boy seated in front of me. For once his eyes briefly flare with anger and not pain or fear.

“Not him, then who?”

“Please…” And Jae drops his gaze from mine, staring somewhere in the vicinity of my raised knees.

“Stop saying please. I don’t like it.”

“Then stop asking questions.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Why do you even care?”

He has me there. Why do I care? I don’t fucking know myself.

“You’re right. I don’t. Suit yourself then.” I get up, finding my feet quickly and ignoring the shocked expression on the boy’s face. “Find yourself an ice pack before the swelling gets worse.”

And against my better judgment, I turn, walking off and leaving him there.

I don’t care.

I don’t care.

I don’t care.

I care.












AN: Well then… :-/ Btw, don’t message me on LJ. My inbox is full and such a mess I really don’t look at it. If there’s anything you want, get me here…

Anonymously via ask.fm/jungyunwhore
Succinctly via Twitter @JungYunWhore
Lengthily via email beeswaxing87@gmail.com
Graphically via my tumblr ask or submission boxes beeswaxing.tumblr.com

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Ouch. Really ouch. I want to heal them both.

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