beeswaxing (beeswaxing) wrote,

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All I Need Is... [3]

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: Ok people, after all the confusion in the previous chapter, I’m going to do this. If I use a Jaejoong photo/gif or something related to him, it’s gonna be his POV. If I use a Yunho photo/gif or something related to him, it will be his POV. If I use both, it will be combined POV so read carefully… Have I mentioned how much I dislike first person fics? I had to throw out 4,000 words yesterday cos I hated whatever it is that I wrote… OTL


I count my steps.

Twenty one.

Twenty two.

Twenty three.

Just as I am about to say twenty four, I hear it.

A terrified high pitched whine, almost a choked scream, coming from somewhere behind me. My steps falter and I take another step, trying to shake it off and ignore it.

Ignore him.

I resume counting. And I get to thirty before the sounds get too much for me to ignore.

I don’t understand what the fuck is going on.

I don’t get why after years of being unable to feel, being unable to reach into myself to pull out even a shred of humanity, some semblance of care, that it is happening now.

Why now?

Is it because I’m going to turn eighteen in a few months and I can finally leave home?

Since my own freedom is in my line of sight, I can afford to give in to feelings?

Whatever the hell it is, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. It’s always been just me. My brothers don’t count. Changmin is always too caught up in being the best at everything that he forgets I even exist. Yoochun…well Yoochun is Yoochun. I know he tries, but I don’t want him to try. It’s a waste of time. For him and for me.

And now this.

What even is this?

The screaming doesn’t cease, and soon, we’d probably have the whole school as witnesses once again and I don’t think he wants that. Fuck, I don’t want that. Not for him. Not for anyone. I’ve decided I really don’t want to know what made the kid like this. Too many scenarios are playing in my head, and each one is worse than the last.

And yet something tells me that no matter how bad I imagine it to be, the reality is so much worse for him.

And it is this final thought that makes me turn and retrace my steps.

I count each one again.

Counting calms me, which is why I enjoy math. There is a certainty in numbers. They don’t fail you.

I stop at thirty, Jae once again at my feet. His eyes are staring out, unseeing, his fingers trembling as they are hovering just over the buttons on his shirt, and gasping in silent panic, the sound made by his throat is so high pitched I’m sure dogs are running around wondering what the fuck is going on. And it is that sound that cuts through to whatever is left of my soul and I just need for him to stop. He has to stop.

“Jae! What the fuck? Jae!”

But he doesn’t look up at me, still screaming, his eyes impossibly large in his ashen face. I don’t want to touch him because he will most definitely freak out, and with him all bloodied like that, no one, not even those who witnessed what happened earlier, would take my side if the blame falls on me.


This time he turns up, tilting his head back at the sound of my voice, but I know he cannot see me. His eyes are unfocused, staring, filled with pain and fear, and hopelessness. It is as if his body is here but his mind is someplace else altogether.

I snap my fingers in front of him, calling his name once again but I get nothing.

I kneel on the ground before him recognising that glazed look in his eyes because I’ve been there before. He is seeing something that he doesn’t want to see and if I don’t get him out of it, who knows what might happen next. Last time this happened to me, I ended up in hospital after punching my fist through a window. I don’t know what this kid is seeing, but whatever it is, it cannot be good.

I take a quick look around, noting the field and bleachers are deserted. The end of lunch bell must’ve gone, neither of us noticing. I look at the pale and trembling figure in front of me, taking a deep breath placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him, calling his name again and again.

After perhaps the fifth attempt, he finally jerks as if waking up from slumber, looking up at me, he must’ve noticed my hand, because he freezes, and I quickly pull my hand away. I don’t want him screaming again.

At least not at me.

I don’t know how long he stares at me, but it bothers me more than I care to admit how he can go to snapping at me to this total mess. It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two from when I walked away to when he started to scream.

I watch as his fingers scrabble with his buttons, and as if an “on” switch has been flicked, he suddenly freezes and starts to shake yet again.

I move to sit cross-legged in front of him because kneeling on the hard ground isn’t exactly very comfortable, keeping some distance between us, and watch as his eyes well up with tears again and that hated word falls from his lips.


“What’s the matter?”

“I can’t…” His voice is trembling so badly I can barely understand him. That faraway look is in his eyes again and I know I have to keep him here with me, not lost in whatever horrific memories he seems to be trapped in.

“Jae, listen to me,” my voice is low and I know I’m growling more than talking and anyone listening would probably think I’m angry but that is far from the reality. It is enough for him to once again turn his attention back on me and that is exactly what I want. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Shirt…” the word is a whisper, and it makes no sense, but he is shaking so hard, staring at me, his desperate eyes on me as if his life depends on it.

“What’s wrong with your shirt?” My eyes briefly flit downwards, seeing his formerly white shirt now covered in red. His nosebleed has stopped, and he must have used his shirt to wipe at his face because not a drop remains on that porcelain skin, all of it tainting his shirt.

“Off…I can’t. Help…me…please…”

I can practically feel the lines in my forehead deepen as he starts to shake again. I cannot help the frown on my face, but he doesn’t budge. His stare is imploring, and that hopelessness within it for himself is in there. I can see it so clearly, as clearly as I can see myself reflected in his pupils.

My own hopelessness in his eyes.

And for some reason, this strengthens my resolve to help him.

“Jae, I can’t touch you while you’re lucid without you freaking out. You have to tell me what you need. Come on, look at me. There’s no one here but us. It’s just you and me, here. No one else. There is no one else.”

“No one?” His voice is that of a child, not an almost eighteen year old. He sounds like a scared child of maybe ten, and in that moment, I feel older. So much older. And I feel the need to protect. I chose to let someone die to save myself, maybe this boy here staring at me with a glimmer of hope in his eyes is my salvation.

If I cannot save myself, maybe I can try and save him.

“No one. And if someone comes, I’ll just give you a demonstration of what an actual broken nose looks like.”

A ghost of a smile flits across his mouth, and in that brief moment, he lets his guard down and I can see the boy I spent a couple of hours talking to in the darkest time of night. And I watch as he once again tries to unbutton his shirt, and yet again, something is triggered within him as he freezes yet again, his fingers stuttering on the metal discs.

“Do you want your shirt off?”

Jae’s nod is slow in coming, and with each nod, a tear spills over.

I want to ask him why unbuttoning his shirt upsets him.

I want to ask him why, despite it upsetting him he still wants to keep going.

I want to ask him why he does not give up, even though he is practically paralysed with whatever it is that is tormenting him.

But I don’t.

“It’s cold. Do you have something else to wear?”

He shakes his head, and I move to pull my jacket off his shoulders so it’ll be easy to slip his thin shirt off. He does not flinch at all which is remarkable in itself, but then I was being extremely careful not to touch him at all.

“You can wear my jacket. I don’t have anything else. I can give you my shirt, but then I’ll be walking around in a tank top which isn’t really that great while riding a bike.”

“You…you ride a bike?”

“Not a push bike if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“B-but aren’t you too young?”

“I got my license elsewhere, legally if you’re wondering. It’s an international license, not that I think it’s valid here but I haven’t been pulled over yet so whatever.”


Devil help me, I think the fucking planets aligned or something or perhaps Yoochun has finally managed to poison us with his kimchi fried rice this morning, because my vision blurs slightly, and all I can see is Jae’s mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. All slick and moist from his tears and saliva, and so pink, almost red from being chewed on so hard from earlier. His lips are full, both the top and bottom which reminds me of Changmin’s mouth, but Jae’s mouth is something else altogether.

Just the perfect little ‘O’.

“Can you help me?”


Jesus fucking Christ I’m stuttering now? Get a grip Yunho. It’s just a mouth. A very pretty mouth on a boy who screams when anyone touches him so yeah, not going to happen. Get a fucking grip.

“I can’t unbutton my shirt.”

Is he for real? He can’t unbutton his shirt? I know there’s a reason, but it still makes no sense. If what I think might have happened to him, happened, then wouldn’t he want to unbutton his own shirt? Nothing is making sense. The last thing he should want is for someone else to undress him, but it looks like this is exactly what he’s asking.

But I have to be sure.

“Do you want me to help you unbutton your shirt?”


“But I might accidentally touch you. I don’t want to upset you.”

“It’s…it’s…it’s ok. Just, please distract me while you’re doing it.”

“Kid, I only know one way of distracting someone,” my eyes flick back down to his mouth and I almost groan because he chooses that very moment to lick his bottom lip, that little pink tongue darting out to moisten his already slick mouth. I’m starting to think I’m a saint, because surely only saints would be able to resist giving in and just bending over and capturing that soft pout.

Perhaps he really is my salvation.

Or my test.

“I’m older than you. You should call my hyung.”

“You’re not exactly behaving in a very hyung-like manner. How about I call you Jae and we leave it at that?”

“How do you normally distract someone?”

“You really don’t want to know, Jae.”

“Try me?”

“Don’t tempt me…” I mutter just as I finish unbuttoning the final button. “There. You’re undone.”


Jaejoong looks down, and immediately he lets out a soft cry, his head jerking back up immediately, his eyes stricken and I can see the panic filling them. What the fuck? He told me to unbutton his shirt and now he’s freaking out? I didn’t even look at him while I did it, and now he’s going to freak and everyone is going to blame me.


“B-b-blood. I ca-ca-can’t.”


“You wanted your shirt off because of the blood?”

He nods his head vigorously, eyes on me, refusing to look down. The panic I saw earlier is slowly leaving, but he is still tense.

“Jae, there’s no blood on you, ok? It’s all on your shirt.”

Well, clearly that was a dumb thing to say because his breath hitches, and the frightened whine from earlier comes back. His eyes are so huge and the absolute terror I see in them is too much for a few splotches of blood. He is practically clawing at himself as he pulls off the shirt, staring at me the whole time. I don’t even dare look down myself, because if I do, he might look away. I try and keep his attention, maintaining eye contact.

What the fuck is going on?

I am so out of my depth it isn’t even funny. The broken leading the totally shattered it seems, but whatever it is, Jae only has me right now, and as his teeth start to chatter, I realise he really is topless. I can see his collarbones sticking out in stark relief out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t want to look away.


He needs to get warm.

But how?

“Jae, just throw the shirt behind you. Don’t look at it.”

Surprisingly, he does as instructed, his chin quivering, but he says nothing, eyes still on me.

However when I start unbuttoning my own shirt, is when his eyes finally dart down, before flying back up to my face. I was afraid of seeing horror reflected back at me, but while those impossibly large liquid doe eyes are still staring, what is within them is curiosity not fright.

“Wh-what are you d-do-doing?”

I find my first smile, as his cheeks finally take on a pink flush as I shrug out of my shirt.

“Getting you warm.”


I merely smile, reaching back to grasp the scruff of my tank top, and pulling it over my head. I lose sight of him for a split second, maybe a full second, and when I get his face back in my sights, I almost wish I hadn’t.

That mouth.

That perfect little moue.

His face is a picture of blushing innocence, and I feel like the big bad wolf all of a sudden.

What the fuck am I doing?

Before I can start second guessing myself, I toss my tank top at him.

“Hurry up and put that on. Don’t waste my warmth.”

Perhaps it is the growl that is back in my voice, but he complies quickly. As he pulls on my top, I note that he is not as thin as I imagined him to be at first. He has a great deal of breadth in his shoulders, and I’m still trying to figure out how the fuck I thought he was a girl. He is lean, but there is muscle in those arms and chest. I refuse to let my eyes wander any lower, as I slip my arms through my shirt and button it up.

“Put my jacket on.”

Again he complies without argument, never taking his eyes off me. He might be shy, I can see it in his eyes, but he refuses to look away.


He nods, and then he does it.

He fucking licks his lips.

He really needs to stop doing that.

But instead of telling him off like I want to, like I would anyone else, I look past his shoulders to the discarded white shirt. I can see the red on it from here, so stark against his paper white shirt.

I am nudged from my contemplation of it by movement from the corner of my eye, and I see him turning around to look, presumably to see what it is that has caught my attention.


The harsh sound drops between us, and he freezes mid-turn.

“Don’t look. It’s your shirt. We’ll just leave it ok? Do you have somewhere to be?”

And he fucking does it again.

Devil help me, what the actual fuck? I start chewing on the inside of my cheek as he starts licking his lips nervously. It seems like a habit, as he stares back at me.




The tip of his tongue darting in and out, sweeping and making his lips even more lush with moisture.

“Stop that.”


The confusion on his face adds to my problem because he pouts.

He fucking pouts.


Devil take it, because I can’t. I know my sudden movement surprises him as I surge to my feet and turn to practically run away, but there’s only so much a person can take. It is pretty fucking clear how I thought he was a girl now, but that isn’t the problem.

The problem is that he’s a boy.


I am halfway across the school lawn, almost at the carpark when he finally catches up with me.

“Wait! Yun-Yun… wait!”

Yun yun? I have a nickname? The fuck is this shit?

I stop and turn to glare at him because what the actual hell? Yeah, bad boy of JC being called Yun yun. Even in my head it sounds fucking ludicrous and this boy is saying it.

Vocalising it.

This boy.

Try as I might, I can’t summon any desire whatsoever to push him aside the way I have with everyone else.

I don’t want to tell him to fuck off.

I don’t know what I want.

“Yunho…” He breathes out. Yes he fucking breathes it out, as he bends over gasping for breath. I can feel his breath caressing my face, and he smells like mint.

I don’t bother waiting because there’s too much shit in my head for me to process without having to deal with his shit as well. I turn, stalking to my bike, and I am already astride it when he catches up to me again.

“Wh-where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

And just like that, his face falls and he takes a step back and I feel like the biggest asshole from the planet of assholes.


“Look, Jae, I know you don’t know me. I’m not exactly the most popular guy around. Maybe the most infamous. Yes, definitely that. You don’t want to hang out with me.”

“You don’t scare me.”

This boy.

The very same boy who had been shaking and crying and screaming on the ground not ten minutes ago is now staring defiantly at me, arms crossed, his mouth in a pout.

A pout.

He is pouting defiantly at me.


I shake my head to try and clear it, the fog from the lack of sleep is slowly creeping up on me, and I know I need to get somewhere safe before my body finally succumbs and I snatch whatever little sleep I can get. Sleeping at the height of the day is always the best, because the brightness immediately orientates me back to the present if I happen to dream in my sleep.

And this boy is standing here pouting at me.

What does he want me to do?

I growl in disgust, as my mind is made up. I’m going to get into so much trouble for this, but we live barely five minutes away so the chance of being caught is slim.

Slim but not none.


Why is this kid making me do things I wouldn’t normally do? What is it about him?

And as I think that, he does it again.

Fucking tongue.

Fucking mouth.

I am doomed.

“Jump on.”

Why did I say that? I’m turning into a masochist. That has to be it. So much for the JD shrink labeling me a sadist. Well, fuck him. I bend over across the other side of my bike to pretend to fiddle with my boot, but really, I just want to calm my suddenly racing heart.

What the fuck?


I straighten and turn at the sound, sighing loudly as I look at his expression.


Deer in headlights.

You name it, he’s it.

“Look, you asked me where I’m going. I’m tired as fuck because unlike you, I didn’t get to catch a nap in math, so I’m going to try and get some sleep now.”

“Now? But we’ve got classes.”

Good grief, is he my conscience now or something? Wait, I don’t have a fucking conscience.

Instead, I smirk at him, and it really amuses the fuck out of me when he flushes. But my amusement dies when he starts to lick even more determinedly at this lips, out of nervousness no doubt.

But whatever his intention, it does not help me.

I want to lick at that mouth.

Get a fucking grip, Jung.

“I don’t give a fuck about school. You can be a little goody goody and skip along back to class if you want, but I’m getting out of here. You can come, or you can get the fuck out of my way.”

I know my words are harsher than they should be, but I feel like I’m in a maelstrom of really fucking confusing thoughts and feelings thanks to this boy.


The hell is going on?

Apparently my words are offensive, because that defiant look is back, though it is accompanied by him scrunching up his face, and with his nose all wrinkled like that, he looks adorable.


Alright, I’ve officially lost it.

“Staying or coming, Jae?”

The words spill out before I can stop them, and if I could give myself a swift kick in the fucking balls, I think I would have. The fuck is going on? Why did I ask him again? I could’ve just put on my helmet and taken off, but Jae is standing too close, and I don’t want to hurt him.


This is getting ridiculous. And it finally hits me that he won’t be coming.

He cannot.

Because there is no way in hell he’s going to be able to stay on my bike without us touching somehow.

Though I suppose if he knows how to grip with his thighs…



I start coughing, as the image in my head starts clouding up my already foggy mind. I need to get home fast because I’m starting to feel delusional and insane even to my own objective observation.

When I finally stop choking on nothing, I look at him, and he’s staring at me, his gaze unwavering, head cocked slightly to the side as if he’s looking at some abstract painting and trying to figure it out.


“How what?”

“You do realise this isn’t a car right?”

“I know.”

“And how do you plan on not falling off?”

I watch as his brow furrows as he looks my bike up and down, front to back, his eyes just moving, roaming, looking anywhere but at me. I refuse to let my eyes drop below his eyes because I know, I just fucking know he is licking his lips.

“I didn’t know BMW made bikes.”

“I’m sure there’s a lot you don’t know, kid.”

He finally meets my gaze, and I recognise uncertainty in it, and I sigh.

“Look, you don’t have to come. I’m not forcing you, but I really have to go.”

“I can…I can touch you.”


“It’s ok if I choose to touch someone…I just…can’t be touched.”

“A little unfair don’t you think?” I ask rather callously, and I wince inwardly as his face closes up again. I know what he means. I know fucking well exactly what he means. He needs the control. It’s exactly the reason why I ride a bike and not drive a fucking car.

Before he can run, because it really looks like he’s about to turn tail, I toss my helmet at him. I only have one with me, and he’s getting it.

“Hurry up. I’ve wasted enough time at school today that I need to make up for. Give me your bag and get a move on.”

He looks at my helmet, and then back at me, and then my helmet again.

“You don’t have another?”

“Look, kid. I’m not in the habit of lugging around two helmets just for the hell of it. My asshole father made me get the pillion rider package for this sport bike, and I draw the line at that. You’re damn lucky I can even take you with me. Now give me your fucking bag, put on the fucking helmet, and hop the fuck on.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a potty mouth?” He mutters under his breath as he hands me his backpack before pulling the helmet over his head.

I roll my eyes, but say nothing as I sling his bag around me. I don’t know how stable he is, or how much touching he is planning on doing, but I’m not going to be responsible for him getting thrown off balance by his damn bag.

I start the bike, and the sound startles him as he jerks and takes a step back. I can no longer see his face because of the visor, and it hits me that I’m going to have to ride slowly home because I don’t have a fucking visor.

Is this kid going to be any more trouble than this? Because I’m ready to call it quits.

But I ignore the thought, putting on my sunglasses. This will have to do.

“I don’t have all fucking day, kid.”

“Stop calling me kid. I’m your hyung,” he retorts.

“You look younger than me, you’re definitely shorter than me, and right now you’re standing there wringing your hands like a fucking bride on her wedding night or something, so I’m going to call you kid whether you like it or not.”

“Are you always such an ass?”

“Yes. Having second thoughts?”


There is a pause, a lengthy one, but I don’t say anything. I simply turn, keeping my eyes focused in front of me, waiting.

I feel a very light touch on my shoulder, and the warmth from his hand burns through my shirt, imprinting on my skin. Fanciful imagination to be sure, but it really fucking feels that way as the pressure increases as he finds his footing to swing up and across. The bike judders slightly between my thighs as he lands lightly behind me. Had it not been for the helmet, I’m sure I’d be able to feel his breath on me.

I have never taken anyone on my bike except Yoochun, and that was because I didn’t have a choice. I had a choice here. I definitely had a choice.

Why did I choose this?

I feel tentative hands, trembling hands, slipping down my back.

I wait, but he pauses, with his palms against my ribs. Nothing more.

“Is this your first time on a bike?”

“Yes…” his voice is so soft that I almost miss it.

“You’re going to have to hold on tighter than that. I’m not moving till you get a better grip.”

I feel his fingers curling, and I thank whoever is out there that I’m not ticklish. But apart from perhaps getting a grip of my shirt, he is still not secure enough for my liking.

“Jae…you’re going to have to put your arms around me. I cannot risk you falling off.”

I hear him sigh loudly, and it almost makes me smile.


His hands move slowly, and if I didn’t know better, I would have accused him of being a fucking tease. Each stroke of his fingers across my body feels like a hot brand and I don’t know why. I am over stimulated, and his touch is not helping.

But it is keeping me from falling asleep.

The last thing I want to do is fall asleep.

I can feel my body reacting, and I let it, because it will keep me alert at least.

His hands finally stop over my abs, his hands loose, almost just circling my waist, not quite touching or deepening the contact.

I turn my head to check his feet, and my head bumps into my helmet, causing him to jerk back, and mumble an apology.

“It’s ok. I just need to check your feet. For a beginner, you’re pretty good at finding the right spots huh?”

To my ears that sounds like a fucking come on, but I know it doesn’t to him. But my body reacts to my own fucking unplanned innuendo.


“We’re not going far so it won’t get too hot, but just keep your feet where they are now and you’ll be fine.”

He nods, and bumps my head again, and to my shock, I feel laughter bubbling up my throat as he mumbles a string of apologies.

I think I’m over tired.

Yes, that’s it.

“Don’t move your feet at all, and just keep your body straight.”

“Just like a bike?”

“A bike?”

“A bicycle. Stay upright and straight to keep your balance.”

I don’t quite see the connection, but he seems to grasp the idea well enough so I simply nod.

“I’m a pretty smooth ride, but it might get bumpy.”

Did I really just say that?

But yet again, he doesn’t get it as he nods.

His hands are still around my waist, even looser than before, but I really don’t want to think about it anymore as I rev the bike, and take off.

Unsurprisingly, his grip tightens immediately, and I’m not even out of the damn parking lot yet. His hands slip lower, and the bottom of my shirt flies up as I pick up speed, just as he rearranges himself.

I feel his now cold hands on me, directly on my skin, nothing between us, and I grit my teeth as I feel him shift imperceptibly closer. He is careful to keep the helmet from my head, but I can feel him pressing against my back.

His hands are flexing, tightening reflexively against my bare skin, fingers skimming my abs, and I let out a groan I know he won’t be able to hear over the engine.

This is going to be the longest five mile ride of my life.

AN: I don’t know what to say. I’m suffering from a serious moral dilemma. I’m so horny I think I’m going to go cry now. I HAVE THE HOTS FOR SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD YUNHO. THIS IS SO WRONG ON SO MANY FUCKING LEVELS YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW. And as I say that, I realise I got married to a 16 year old so clearly morals aren’t actually my strong point… But y’all love me like this, yes? XD!

As can get me here:
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Lengthily via email
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Tags: fic:aini, pairing:yunjae, pg-13

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