Eris (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} aidrocsid_eris) wrote,@ 2008-03-18 14:55:00 |
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| Entry tags: | jaemin, meetings |
Fic: Overcome adversity
Title: Overcome adversity
Author: aidrocsid_eris
Pairing: jaemin
The age old question for couples: how did you meet?
This had a point to it when I first started it, and then I don't know what happened. Second in the meeting series, but you can think of it as a one-shot. Fluffy, I suppose, fast-paced, and I also don't know what happened to the ending. Enjoy! ♥
Junsu receives a book about fortune-telling for his 19th birthday and immediately becomes obsessed with it; he spends the rest of the month researching everything from palm-reading to astrology and convincing his classmates to let him read their fortune.
During lunch, when Changmin is finished eating and there's nothing to do, he reluctantly lets Junsu read his palm.
After spending a few minutes studying his hand and tracing the lines, Junsu announces, “I'm sorry to tell you this, Changmin, but you're going to have a lot of bad luck ahead of you. Very soon.”
“What?” Changmin exclaims indignantly, and tries to snatch his hand away. “What kind of prediction is that?”
“Oh, wait.” Junsu pauses, and peers at his book. “Oops. That curve means good luck.”
Yunho, who'd been told he'd spend years as an aimless wanderer before having that amended to becoming a famous pop star, snorts and asks dryly, “Are you sure about that?”
Junsu nods complacently, either not noticing or ignoring the skepticism in his voice. “It may look a lot like bad luck, but it's actually good luck.”
Eventually, Junsu loses interest in predicting the future, and Changmin writes off the incident as just another one of his random quirks.
*
The story really begins when Changmin gets a C in his calculus class. There are a thousand reasons why he did so poorly— the teacher didn’t like him, the tests were impossibly hard, it was Junsu’s fault— but they fail to convince his mother, who is so appalled that she immediately signs him up for tutoring.
“I know the perfect person,” she tells him. “A very smart young man, very good at math. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you.”
Despite his protests, Changmin finds himself standing outside his tutor’s apartment after he gets out of school. He tries telling himself it can’t be that bad, just one afternoon and his mom’ll stop bothering him, but the door opens and his mouth drops open involuntarily.
It’s on the tip of Changmin’s tongue to babble out an apology and say he must have the wrong house, because there is no way in hell that his tutor is Kim Jaejoong.
Changmin knows who Kim Jaejoong is; everyone knows Kim Jaejoong, but no one knows anything about him besides the obvious. He has hair that changes color every six months and a wardrobe that rivals those of girls who seem to spend their whole lives shopping; he never talks to anyone his age besides his only friend, Park Yoochun, which has given him a reputation for being stuck up and unapproachable.
In short, Kim Jaejoong is a person best seen from afar.
Before Changmin can say anything, however, Jaejoong steps back and pushes the door open wide enough for him to step through.
“You must be Changmin.” He doesn’t wait for Changmin to respond, turning to walk inside. “Come on in,” he calls, and Changmin has no choice but to follow.
*
The inside of the apartment is surprisingly neat for someone who looks like he lives alone. A table is set out with a bunch of papers, pens, textbooks, calculators, and other school related items, and everything looks so normal that it makes Changmin’s head spin.
“You can sit down here.” Jaejoong gestures towards one of the chairs, and his mouth quirks into an unexpected smile. “And relax. I’m not going to eat you.”
Changmin smiles weakly in return and drops into the nearest seat; Jaejoong sits opposite him and begins explaining the chapter he’s studying.
Thirty minutes later Jaejoong closes the textbook abruptly and directs his unnerving stare at Changmin. “It seems like you understand everything,” he says slowly. “There’s not much I help you with.”
Changmin glances at the clock; there’s still an hour and a half to go before his parents can pick him up. He’s barely spoken a word throughout the entire session, but finally musters the courage to say, “I’m sorry, my parents won’t be coming home until later, would it be alright if I stayed here until they came?” He adds quickly, “I won’t disturb you or anything, I’ll just sit here and do homework or something—”
Jaejoong blinks. “Of course you can,” he finally says, sounding somewhat surprised. “I wouldn’t kick you out. Feel free to do whatever you want.”
“Thank you,” Changmin says gratefully, and Jaejoong frowns.
“You shouldn’t thank me,” he says, standing up. “Anyway, I was just going to start dinner or something, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Need help?” Changmin asks, just to be polite.
Jaejoong turns and gives him a thoughtful look. “Sure,” he says slowly. “How good are you at making pasta?”
*
Changmin isn’t the greatest cook to begin with, but being around Jaejoong makes him three times worse. He burns one of Jaejoong’s pans, adds too much salt to the sauce, undercooks the noodles, and basically makes a mess of his kitchen.
Jaejoong, to his credit, still has a pleasant, if forced, expression on his face as he tells Changmin thanks, but he really doesn’t need help anymore— he can sit down. Changmin complies, perching on one of the stools, and watches Jaejoong try to salvage as many dishes as he can. Soon the whole apartment is filled with the smell of his cooking, and Changmin can hear his stomach growling.
When Jaejoong offers him some, etiquette requires he refuse, even though he’s starving and practically drooling. “Oh, no, that’s all right. I’m not really hungry,” Changmin lies.
Jaejoong raises his eyebrow. “I could hear your stomach all the way from over there,” he says dryly, and sets a bowl down in front of Changmin. “Just take some. I purposely made enough for both of us; I won’t be able to finish if you don’t eat anything.”
It doesn't take much to convince him; Changmin accepts the food and briefly wonders how anyone can think of Jaejoong as anything but a wonderful, generous person.
He thinks it should be awkward, sitting down and sharing a meal with Jaejoong, but it isn’t. Jaejoong keeps the conversation going by asking him questions about school and what he does for fun. He seems to find Changmin as fascinating as everyone finds him, and they talk until they’ve both finished eating.
His phone rings just as he sticks his empty bowl in the sink— his mother’s outside. He helps clean up and then gets all his stuff, thanking Jaejoong for the meal. “I had fun,” he says, and feels his cheeks burn, just a little.
Jaejoong smiles, and it’s a nice smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” he suggests, opening the door for him.
“Maybe,” Changmin agrees, even though he privately thinks they’ll never see each other again. They run in completely different circles, and the world really isn’t that small.
*
The next incident is entirely Changmin’s fault, although he’s not about to admit it for an instant.
School’s over; it’s his last summer break before college. He manages to get through the year relatively unscathed, even snagging straight A’s, and as a graduation present his parents buy him a car.
To be honest, there’s nothing special about it beyond the fact that it’s new, but Yunho and Junsu are instantly enamored with it. They coerce him into giving them rides anywhere from their houses (which are only a block away) to shopping centers (all they do is walk around and window shop).
This time, they’re coming back from the grocery store, because Yunho just happened to remember he needed to buy laundry detergent for his mom. The radio’s blaring and Yunho and Junsu are singing along to whatever song is playing, and Changmin backs out of the parking lot without looking.
There’s a loud honk from behind, followed almost immediately by a crunch, which is then followed by a horrified silence.
“Holy shit,” Junsu finally says, awed.
Yunho looks pained.
Changmin resists the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel.
*
After his parents finish yelling at him, they lay down an ultimatum: he has to find a job to pay for the damage, and besides working, he’s pretty much under house arrest.
He spends the next day sulking and calling Junsu and Yunho to complain. While sympathetic, they refuse to lend him the $3000 he needs to pay for damages, and eventually he cracks and starts looking for a job.
One of the many problems in doing so, Changmin soon realizes, is that he’s never had a job before, and therefore doesn’t have the slightest idea of how to get one. He looks in newspapers and calls up advertisements that look promising, but most reject him on the premises that he has no prior experience, he’s 19, and he has to walk to his new workplace (his parents flat out refused to let him touch a car for a month, at least). The only thing that keeps him from giving up is that both his parents would murder him if he didn't find anything.
As he’s walking back from his latest interview failure (the store manager didn’t appreciate it when Changmin said his questions were stupid, but he was just being honest), he comes across an obscure shopping center, and decides to look around for the hell of it.
Nestled in between a furniture and shoe store is a small bakery, and Changmin sees a small 'hiring' sign in the window. Why not, he thinks. I’ve got nothing to lose.
There’s no one in the store when he walks in. “Uh, excuse me,” he calls. “Is there anyone here? I’d like to apply for a job.”
A man (boy? teenager?) walks out the back room. “We’re not really hiring—,” he starts, but the words die on his lips when he looks up. His eyes widen. “Changmin?”
“Jaejoong?” Changmin’s just as surprised. It’s been five, maybe six months since they’d last seen each other, and of all the places in the world they finally meet again in a bakery. What a coincidence. “Um. Hi. You work here?”
He shrugs. “Ever since I got out of high school.” His smile turns devilish. “You’re applying here? Have you become better at cooking, then?”
“I’m not that bad,” Changmin defends himself, blushing. “And I need a job.”
Jaejoong laughs, and then says more seriously, “Well, if you’re really considering working here, it’s a pretty time consuming job.”
“Even better,” Changmin says darkly. Jaejoong looks at him curiously, and Changmin hastily explains, “My parents, they pretty much said I couldn’t do anything this summer besides get a job. The more time I spend out of my home, the better.”
“Jaejoong, where are you?”
The interruption makes both of them jump; Jaejoong swivels around guiltily and Changmin sees a middle-aged woman watching them with a bemused expression.
“Oops,” Jaejoong mutters. “I’d better get back to work.” He heads towards the back room, giving Changmin an apologetic wave as he goes.
“You looking for a job, boy?”
“What?” Changmin tears his eyes away from Jaejoong’s retreating form to find the woman, the manager, he supposes, staring at him. “Oh, yes. I am.”
She purses her lips, looks him up and down, and then fires a volley of questions at him, beginning with ‘how old are you’ and finishing with ‘what days can you work.’ Changmin answers them as best as he can, and she surveys him one more time and says, “Fine. You’re hired.”
“Really?” Changmin says excitedly, and then somewhat doubtfully, “you can just hire me like that? It’s that easy?”
“It’s not, normally.” She cracks a smile for the first time. “But I’m the owner of this place, so I make the rules, and I need some help around here. You’ll have to do. You can start tomorrow.”
*
Business is slow, slow enough for Jaejoong to teach him everything from the different types of breads he needs to make how to work the oven, not that it does Changmin much good. Something always seems to go wrong whenever he works in the kitchen, and the manager starts calling him cursed when he wrecks a third batch of muffins in a row.
“You’re a menace to my kitchen,” she grumbles, trying to pry off another burnt pastry from the oven tray.
“Why’d you hire me, then?” he shoots back, half-joking, but she responds seriously.
“I’ve never seen Jaejoong take a liking to anyone who came here asking for a job,” she muses. “You, though. He seemed friendly with you right away, and I figured that was a good enough reason as any to hire you, though your culinary skills leave something to be desired.”
“Well, um,” Changmin interrupts, before she can get some preconceived notion of him in her head, “I do know him. Slightly. I mean, he tutored me for a— a day.”
She gives him a pointed look.
“I’m just saying!” Changmin cries.
*
But it’s the same routine every day. Changmin and Jaejoong are having an ordinary conversation, a customer walks in, Jaejoong’s face turns hard and cold, the customer stares at him nervously and goes away without buying anything.
Once they’re gone, he’s all smiles and stupid jokes again.
Finally, when the store closes and they’re cleaning up, Changmin decides to ask him about it. Well. He doesn’t really ask so much as blurt it out, and Jaejoong gives him a confused look, like he’s the one acting weird.
“I don’t do it on purpose,” he finally announces, as if that’s supposed to excuse him.
Changmin doesn’t buy it. “So your face just magically becomes like– like that whenever a customer walks in? Even when we were at school you were like that with everyone.”
“Oh,” Jaejoong says vaguely. “Was I? I don’t remember.”
Changmin turns to look at him incredulously. “Did you ever wonder why you didn’t have any friends?”
“I had friends!” Jaejoong protests, and then grins, nudges Changmin with his shoulder. “But if I don’t have any friends, and you’re my friend, what does that make you?”
“An anomaly,” Changmin replies promptly, nudging him back. “A fluke. As weird as you are, even if I’m more polite and have other friends.”
Jaejoong huffs, and Changmin smiles when he hears him mutter something like ‘smart aleck’ and ‘no respect for his elders.’
They scrub the counter in silence for a few seconds before Jaejoong asks, curiously, “Did you think I was cold when you first met me?”
“Very,” Changmin says, and Jaejoong laughs.
*
Three weeks into his job, Changmin stops by Yunho’s apartment after he gets off work. Technically he’s still ‘grounded,’ but he hasn’t talked to Junsu or Yunho for a while, and he misses them.
Changmin regrets his decision as soon as he walks in. Both Yunho and Junsu are acting really strangely; Yunho looks inexplicably nervous and fidgets every time Changmin tries to talk to him, while Junsu keeps running around and successfully avoids Changmin’s attempts to make eye contact with him.
Frustrated, Changmin finally directs his gaze at the apartment, and is surprised by how different it looks. The normally neat room is littered with cardboard boxes, some filled and some still flattened, with clothes and other belongings scattered haphazardly on chairs and the floor. The walls, on the other hand, are bare and devoid of their normal clutter of posters and pictures.
“You look like you’re moving,” he jokes, in an attempt to relieve some of the tension. When they don’t respond he looks up and catches Junsu giving Yunho an uneasy look.
“Are you?” It doesn’t take a genius to realize there’s no doubt that he is, but Changmin’s disbelief is too great for him to fully process what’s happening. “Yunho?”
“We’re sorry,” Junsu blurts out.
“We?” Changmin turns to stare at Junsu instead. “Junsu? You’re moving too?”
“We tried to tell you,” Junsu says miserably, and Changmin suddenly remembers how Junsu had called him during work and said he needed to tell him something, but then there'd been a small fire in the oven, and in between Jaejoong screeching for him to get over there now and the sprinkler system going off Changmin had had to hang up abruptly. Junsu never brought up the subject again.
“You tried to tell me once,” Changmin whispers. He can’t believe how hurt he feels. “I’m your friend, I— were you planning on just leaving without saying anything?”
“We would’ve told you,” Yunho says, guiltily. “It’s just— we hardly see you, you’re always so busy, we’ve wanted to tell you—”
Changmin laughs at that, a derisive and shaky laugh without any trace of amusement. “No, you didn’t,” he says softly. “You didn’t. Neither one of you cared enough to tell me.”
“Changmin,” Yunho tries to say, but Changmin backs away.
“No. Fuck you. Fuck you both,” he says, shaking his head. “Some friends you are.”
He runs.
*
He finds himself in front of the bakery.
The door’s locked but the light’s still on; Changmin knocks over and over again and prays that Jaejoong’s still there.
Jaejoong arrives almost immediately; upon seeing the state Changmin’s in he quickly opens the door and greets him with a concerned, “Changmin, what’re you doing back here? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He attempts to make his voice breezy but it comes out strained. God damn it, he thinks, and punches the wall. Fuck. Ow. His knuckles throb and he swears softly under his breath. “Everything’s just perfect.”
“Hey,” Jaejoong says, alarmed, catching his hand before he can do it again. “Changmin. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he says, frustrated. “It was nothing. My friends— I overreacted.”
Jaejoong doesn’t say anything, but sits on the counter and waits for him to calm down, absentmindedly patting Changmin’s hand in a soothing gesture.
Seconds tick by, and his anger gradually dissipates. He feels tired. Numb. “My friends,” Changmin finally admits. “They’re moving. They’re leaving, and they didn’t tell me.” He breaks off abruptly, uncomfortable, and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I came here, I just needed to get away, I didn’t mean to bother—”
Jaejoong grabs his arm. “Oh no you don’t,” he says firmly, and pulls him towards the counter as well. “Sit. You’re not going anywhere until you sort this out.”
For reasons Changmin cannot quite fathom, he ends up sitting next to Jaejoong, leaning on him, telling him the whole story. Jaejoong puts his arm around Changmin in a comforting way and doesn’t interrupt once.
“They’re my only friends,” Changmin finishes. “When they leave, I won’t have anyone.”
Jaejoong processes the statement, a thoughtful look on his face. “Does that mean,” he says slowly, “that I’ll have more friends than you?”
There’s a pause.
“You ass,” Changmin exclaims, and shoves him off the counter, but he starts laughing and feels, suddenly, so much better about the whole thing. “What kind of person says that? You’re supposed to be sympathetic. You’re supposed to give me advice.”
“Fine. You want advice?” Jaejoong leans forward, until his face is inches away from Changmin’s, a hand on either side of his legs. Changmin feels a strange fluttery sensation in his stomach. “Go talk to them,” he says softly. “They’re still your friends, no matter how angry you may be right now.”
*
Their departure leaves Changmin gloomy for a week.
He had gone to see them (not because Jaejoong told him to, but because he wanted to) before they left, and they had talked. Junsu and Yunho apologized for not telling him, Changmin apologized for getting so angry, and all was forgiven. They told him why they were moving; Junsu’s parents wanted a house closer to his college, and since Yunho was going there too, he’d decided to come along too. They had cried and hugged and said how much they would miss each other, but in the end Junsu and Yunho were going off to a bright new future and leaving Changmin behind.
Not to mention Jaejoong, probably the only person who could cheer him up, seems to be avoiding him.
To be honest, he’s not even sure how he feels about Jaejoong anymore. He can’t stop thinking of him, of his eyes and lips and smile and the way he had touched his hand, comforted him, stared at him—
But he’s not gay. He can’t be. He’s never once considered the possibility that he was gay before, never felt this way about another male before— and besides, he reasons with himself, even if he is gay, that doesn’t guarantee Jaejoong likes him back.
He walks to the bakery with these questions still turning in his head, and gets no closer to answering them by the time he gets there. Before he opens the door, however, he notices the small ‘closed’ sign dangling in the window. He frowns; he doesn’t remember being told there was no work today, but on the bright side, he now has the rest of the day to agonize over his problems.
He goes to a nearby park.
It’s relatively empty, considering how early it is. The only other person Changmin sees is a slightly older man who looks even more out of place there than Changmin. But despite the man’s designer sunglasses and neatly pressed clothes, there’s something familiar about him.
The name comes to him a second before he hears another, very familiar, voice shout it.
“Park Yoochun!”
Changmin cranes his neck and sees Jaejoong appear out of nowhere, cheeks flushed from the wind and smiling delightedly. He looks beautiful, and the realization makes Changmin’s chest hurt. He feels like a goddamn voyeur for watching, for spying on Jaejoong’s private life, but he can’t look away.
He can’t look away when he sees them hug, when he sees them kiss, a slow and familiar kiss like they’ve got all the time in the world, even though his eyes sting and he feels like he’s been slapped. He wonders how long they’ve been together, wonders if they’ve been dating since high school, and God, he’s such an idiot. He sits, frozen, and catches bits of their conversation.
“—haven’t seen you in fucking forever, Yoochun—”
“—how can you stand living in this town for so long—”
“—come on, let’s go somewhere more private—”
“—of all the places to meet up, and you pick a park—”
He watches them walk away, arms slung around each other like best friends. Like lovers.
Well, at any rate, he’s gotten the answers to his questions.
Jaejoong is gay.
I am in love with him.
He’s not in love with me.
*
If he was in a bad mood before, it’s nothing compared to how he feels now. But he has a right to be mad; people are allowed to be bitter and angry when they realize the possible love of their life is already taken. “Why do I have the worst luck in the world?” he wonders to himself, squashing and squeezing and strangling the dough. It’s very therapeutic.
When Jaejoong comes in, Changmin glowers at him. Jaejoong doesn’t seem to notice, though. He touches him six times in two hours: two pats on the back, a punch to the shoulder, an arm slung around his shoulder, and two hand grabbings. Changmin wonders if he can last the rest of the summer without going crazy, being around Jaejoong eight hours a day, seven days a week.
“Hey, Changmin,” Jaejoong says, tapping his shoulder. Touch number seven.
“What?” Changmin snaps, voice rough with bitterness and lack of sleep. He turns to scowl at Jaejoong, only to find him inches away from his face. His breath catches in his throat, anger fading, dying, replaced with something that hurts in an aching sort of way.
“You’ve got flour on your cheek,” Jaejoong says softly, fingers gently reaching up and brushing it away. “There.”
Changmin’s cheek tingles; he can’t look away— Jaejoong’s eyes are dark and his lips are pink and he’s smiling at him, just him. Changmin can feel his pulse thrumming in his ears because he likes him, he really likes him, and without thinking he leans forward.
For a second Changmin feels the warm press of lips against his own, and then he jerks away, face flaming and heart racing.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, horrified. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I just— you—”
Jaejoong still looks stunned, but he grabs one of Changmin’s flailing hands and stares at him. “God. Stop apologizing for like a second and tell me— tell me that wasn't a joke,” he says, voice low and serious.
“I shouldn't have done it,” Changmin cries. “You have a boyfriend!” he protests, not caring if he sounds like a stalker. “I— I saw you kiss him.”
“Yoochun?” Jaejoong drops Changmin’s hand in surprise. “Yesterday, in the park? We were breaking up,” he explains, a worried expression on his face. “He told me he didn’t think it was really working out, and I agreed with him.”
“Oh,” Changmin says blankly, and the same fluttery sensation returns to his chest. “Oh.”
“He was my only friend,” Jaejoong continues, and his voice is so sad that Changmin panics for a second before he notices the grin on his face. “Now that he’s gone, I don’t have anyone.”
“Am I supposed to tell you to go talk to him?” Changmin asks. “Because I really don’t want to.”
Jaejoong starts laughing, and almost manages to push Changmin over. “Way to kill the mood, Changmin.” He sighs melodramatically. “Then, I guess it looks like we’re stuck with each other. It’s a good thing that I like you, huh?”
“Good thing I like you,” Changmin corrects him. “Everyone else still thinks you’re weird.”
Jaejoong elbows him. “Hey. You’re lucky you met me, you know,” he announces. “No one else would put up with this much abuse.”
Junsu receives a book about fortune-telling for his 19th birthday and immediately becomes obsessed with it; he spends the rest of the month researching everything from palm-reading to astrology and convincing his classmates to let him read their fortune.
During lunch, when Changmin is finished eating and there's nothing to do, he reluctantly lets Junsu read his palm.
After spending a few minutes studying his hand and tracing the lines, Junsu announces, “I'm sorry to tell you this, Changmin, but you're going to have a lot of bad luck ahead of you. Very soon.”
“What?” Changmin exclaims indignantly, and tries to snatch his hand away. “What kind of prediction is that?”
“Oh, wait.” Junsu pauses, and peers at his book. “Oops. That curve means good luck.”
Yunho, who'd been told he'd spend years as an aimless wanderer before having that amended to becoming a famous pop star, snorts and asks dryly, “Are you sure about that?”
Junsu nods complacently, either not noticing or ignoring the skepticism in his voice. “It may look a lot like bad luck, but it's actually good luck.”
Eventually, Junsu loses interest in predicting the future, and Changmin writes off the incident as just another one of his random quirks.
*
The story really begins when Changmin gets a C in his calculus class. There are a thousand reasons why he did so poorly— the teacher didn’t like him, the tests were impossibly hard, it was Junsu’s fault— but they fail to convince his mother, who is so appalled that she immediately signs him up for tutoring.
“I know the perfect person,” she tells him. “A very smart young man, very good at math. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you.”
Despite his protests, Changmin finds himself standing outside his tutor’s apartment after he gets out of school. He tries telling himself it can’t be that bad, just one afternoon and his mom’ll stop bothering him, but the door opens and his mouth drops open involuntarily.
It’s on the tip of Changmin’s tongue to babble out an apology and say he must have the wrong house, because there is no way in hell that his tutor is Kim Jaejoong.
Changmin knows who Kim Jaejoong is; everyone knows Kim Jaejoong, but no one knows anything about him besides the obvious. He has hair that changes color every six months and a wardrobe that rivals those of girls who seem to spend their whole lives shopping; he never talks to anyone his age besides his only friend, Park Yoochun, which has given him a reputation for being stuck up and unapproachable.
In short, Kim Jaejoong is a person best seen from afar.
Before Changmin can say anything, however, Jaejoong steps back and pushes the door open wide enough for him to step through.
“You must be Changmin.” He doesn’t wait for Changmin to respond, turning to walk inside. “Come on in,” he calls, and Changmin has no choice but to follow.
*
The inside of the apartment is surprisingly neat for someone who looks like he lives alone. A table is set out with a bunch of papers, pens, textbooks, calculators, and other school related items, and everything looks so normal that it makes Changmin’s head spin.
“You can sit down here.” Jaejoong gestures towards one of the chairs, and his mouth quirks into an unexpected smile. “And relax. I’m not going to eat you.”
Changmin smiles weakly in return and drops into the nearest seat; Jaejoong sits opposite him and begins explaining the chapter he’s studying.
Thirty minutes later Jaejoong closes the textbook abruptly and directs his unnerving stare at Changmin. “It seems like you understand everything,” he says slowly. “There’s not much I help you with.”
Changmin glances at the clock; there’s still an hour and a half to go before his parents can pick him up. He’s barely spoken a word throughout the entire session, but finally musters the courage to say, “I’m sorry, my parents won’t be coming home until later, would it be alright if I stayed here until they came?” He adds quickly, “I won’t disturb you or anything, I’ll just sit here and do homework or something—”
Jaejoong blinks. “Of course you can,” he finally says, sounding somewhat surprised. “I wouldn’t kick you out. Feel free to do whatever you want.”
“Thank you,” Changmin says gratefully, and Jaejoong frowns.
“You shouldn’t thank me,” he says, standing up. “Anyway, I was just going to start dinner or something, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Need help?” Changmin asks, just to be polite.
Jaejoong turns and gives him a thoughtful look. “Sure,” he says slowly. “How good are you at making pasta?”
*
Changmin isn’t the greatest cook to begin with, but being around Jaejoong makes him three times worse. He burns one of Jaejoong’s pans, adds too much salt to the sauce, undercooks the noodles, and basically makes a mess of his kitchen.
Jaejoong, to his credit, still has a pleasant, if forced, expression on his face as he tells Changmin thanks, but he really doesn’t need help anymore— he can sit down. Changmin complies, perching on one of the stools, and watches Jaejoong try to salvage as many dishes as he can. Soon the whole apartment is filled with the smell of his cooking, and Changmin can hear his stomach growling.
When Jaejoong offers him some, etiquette requires he refuse, even though he’s starving and practically drooling. “Oh, no, that’s all right. I’m not really hungry,” Changmin lies.
Jaejoong raises his eyebrow. “I could hear your stomach all the way from over there,” he says dryly, and sets a bowl down in front of Changmin. “Just take some. I purposely made enough for both of us; I won’t be able to finish if you don’t eat anything.”
It doesn't take much to convince him; Changmin accepts the food and briefly wonders how anyone can think of Jaejoong as anything but a wonderful, generous person.
He thinks it should be awkward, sitting down and sharing a meal with Jaejoong, but it isn’t. Jaejoong keeps the conversation going by asking him questions about school and what he does for fun. He seems to find Changmin as fascinating as everyone finds him, and they talk until they’ve both finished eating.
His phone rings just as he sticks his empty bowl in the sink— his mother’s outside. He helps clean up and then gets all his stuff, thanking Jaejoong for the meal. “I had fun,” he says, and feels his cheeks burn, just a little.
Jaejoong smiles, and it’s a nice smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” he suggests, opening the door for him.
“Maybe,” Changmin agrees, even though he privately thinks they’ll never see each other again. They run in completely different circles, and the world really isn’t that small.
*
The next incident is entirely Changmin’s fault, although he’s not about to admit it for an instant.
School’s over; it’s his last summer break before college. He manages to get through the year relatively unscathed, even snagging straight A’s, and as a graduation present his parents buy him a car.
To be honest, there’s nothing special about it beyond the fact that it’s new, but Yunho and Junsu are instantly enamored with it. They coerce him into giving them rides anywhere from their houses (which are only a block away) to shopping centers (all they do is walk around and window shop).
This time, they’re coming back from the grocery store, because Yunho just happened to remember he needed to buy laundry detergent for his mom. The radio’s blaring and Yunho and Junsu are singing along to whatever song is playing, and Changmin backs out of the parking lot without looking.
There’s a loud honk from behind, followed almost immediately by a crunch, which is then followed by a horrified silence.
“Holy shit,” Junsu finally says, awed.
Yunho looks pained.
Changmin resists the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel.
*
After his parents finish yelling at him, they lay down an ultimatum: he has to find a job to pay for the damage, and besides working, he’s pretty much under house arrest.
He spends the next day sulking and calling Junsu and Yunho to complain. While sympathetic, they refuse to lend him the $3000 he needs to pay for damages, and eventually he cracks and starts looking for a job.
One of the many problems in doing so, Changmin soon realizes, is that he’s never had a job before, and therefore doesn’t have the slightest idea of how to get one. He looks in newspapers and calls up advertisements that look promising, but most reject him on the premises that he has no prior experience, he’s 19, and he has to walk to his new workplace (his parents flat out refused to let him touch a car for a month, at least). The only thing that keeps him from giving up is that both his parents would murder him if he didn't find anything.
As he’s walking back from his latest interview failure (the store manager didn’t appreciate it when Changmin said his questions were stupid, but he was just being honest), he comes across an obscure shopping center, and decides to look around for the hell of it.
Nestled in between a furniture and shoe store is a small bakery, and Changmin sees a small 'hiring' sign in the window. Why not, he thinks. I’ve got nothing to lose.
There’s no one in the store when he walks in. “Uh, excuse me,” he calls. “Is there anyone here? I’d like to apply for a job.”
A man (boy? teenager?) walks out the back room. “We’re not really hiring—,” he starts, but the words die on his lips when he looks up. His eyes widen. “Changmin?”
“Jaejoong?” Changmin’s just as surprised. It’s been five, maybe six months since they’d last seen each other, and of all the places in the world they finally meet again in a bakery. What a coincidence. “Um. Hi. You work here?”
He shrugs. “Ever since I got out of high school.” His smile turns devilish. “You’re applying here? Have you become better at cooking, then?”
“I’m not that bad,” Changmin defends himself, blushing. “And I need a job.”
Jaejoong laughs, and then says more seriously, “Well, if you’re really considering working here, it’s a pretty time consuming job.”
“Even better,” Changmin says darkly. Jaejoong looks at him curiously, and Changmin hastily explains, “My parents, they pretty much said I couldn’t do anything this summer besides get a job. The more time I spend out of my home, the better.”
“Jaejoong, where are you?”
The interruption makes both of them jump; Jaejoong swivels around guiltily and Changmin sees a middle-aged woman watching them with a bemused expression.
“Oops,” Jaejoong mutters. “I’d better get back to work.” He heads towards the back room, giving Changmin an apologetic wave as he goes.
“You looking for a job, boy?”
“What?” Changmin tears his eyes away from Jaejoong’s retreating form to find the woman, the manager, he supposes, staring at him. “Oh, yes. I am.”
She purses her lips, looks him up and down, and then fires a volley of questions at him, beginning with ‘how old are you’ and finishing with ‘what days can you work.’ Changmin answers them as best as he can, and she surveys him one more time and says, “Fine. You’re hired.”
“Really?” Changmin says excitedly, and then somewhat doubtfully, “you can just hire me like that? It’s that easy?”
“It’s not, normally.” She cracks a smile for the first time. “But I’m the owner of this place, so I make the rules, and I need some help around here. You’ll have to do. You can start tomorrow.”
*
Business is slow, slow enough for Jaejoong to teach him everything from the different types of breads he needs to make how to work the oven, not that it does Changmin much good. Something always seems to go wrong whenever he works in the kitchen, and the manager starts calling him cursed when he wrecks a third batch of muffins in a row.
“You’re a menace to my kitchen,” she grumbles, trying to pry off another burnt pastry from the oven tray.
“Why’d you hire me, then?” he shoots back, half-joking, but she responds seriously.
“I’ve never seen Jaejoong take a liking to anyone who came here asking for a job,” she muses. “You, though. He seemed friendly with you right away, and I figured that was a good enough reason as any to hire you, though your culinary skills leave something to be desired.”
“Well, um,” Changmin interrupts, before she can get some preconceived notion of him in her head, “I do know him. Slightly. I mean, he tutored me for a— a day.”
She gives him a pointed look.
“I’m just saying!” Changmin cries.
*
But it’s the same routine every day. Changmin and Jaejoong are having an ordinary conversation, a customer walks in, Jaejoong’s face turns hard and cold, the customer stares at him nervously and goes away without buying anything.
Once they’re gone, he’s all smiles and stupid jokes again.
Finally, when the store closes and they’re cleaning up, Changmin decides to ask him about it. Well. He doesn’t really ask so much as blurt it out, and Jaejoong gives him a confused look, like he’s the one acting weird.
“I don’t do it on purpose,” he finally announces, as if that’s supposed to excuse him.
Changmin doesn’t buy it. “So your face just magically becomes like– like that whenever a customer walks in? Even when we were at school you were like that with everyone.”
“Oh,” Jaejoong says vaguely. “Was I? I don’t remember.”
Changmin turns to look at him incredulously. “Did you ever wonder why you didn’t have any friends?”
“I had friends!” Jaejoong protests, and then grins, nudges Changmin with his shoulder. “But if I don’t have any friends, and you’re my friend, what does that make you?”
“An anomaly,” Changmin replies promptly, nudging him back. “A fluke. As weird as you are, even if I’m more polite and have other friends.”
Jaejoong huffs, and Changmin smiles when he hears him mutter something like ‘smart aleck’ and ‘no respect for his elders.’
They scrub the counter in silence for a few seconds before Jaejoong asks, curiously, “Did you think I was cold when you first met me?”
“Very,” Changmin says, and Jaejoong laughs.
*
Three weeks into his job, Changmin stops by Yunho’s apartment after he gets off work. Technically he’s still ‘grounded,’ but he hasn’t talked to Junsu or Yunho for a while, and he misses them.
Changmin regrets his decision as soon as he walks in. Both Yunho and Junsu are acting really strangely; Yunho looks inexplicably nervous and fidgets every time Changmin tries to talk to him, while Junsu keeps running around and successfully avoids Changmin’s attempts to make eye contact with him.
Frustrated, Changmin finally directs his gaze at the apartment, and is surprised by how different it looks. The normally neat room is littered with cardboard boxes, some filled and some still flattened, with clothes and other belongings scattered haphazardly on chairs and the floor. The walls, on the other hand, are bare and devoid of their normal clutter of posters and pictures.
“You look like you’re moving,” he jokes, in an attempt to relieve some of the tension. When they don’t respond he looks up and catches Junsu giving Yunho an uneasy look.
“Are you?” It doesn’t take a genius to realize there’s no doubt that he is, but Changmin’s disbelief is too great for him to fully process what’s happening. “Yunho?”
“We’re sorry,” Junsu blurts out.
“We?” Changmin turns to stare at Junsu instead. “Junsu? You’re moving too?”
“We tried to tell you,” Junsu says miserably, and Changmin suddenly remembers how Junsu had called him during work and said he needed to tell him something, but then there'd been a small fire in the oven, and in between Jaejoong screeching for him to get over there now and the sprinkler system going off Changmin had had to hang up abruptly. Junsu never brought up the subject again.
“You tried to tell me once,” Changmin whispers. He can’t believe how hurt he feels. “I’m your friend, I— were you planning on just leaving without saying anything?”
“We would’ve told you,” Yunho says, guiltily. “It’s just— we hardly see you, you’re always so busy, we’ve wanted to tell you—”
Changmin laughs at that, a derisive and shaky laugh without any trace of amusement. “No, you didn’t,” he says softly. “You didn’t. Neither one of you cared enough to tell me.”
“Changmin,” Yunho tries to say, but Changmin backs away.
“No. Fuck you. Fuck you both,” he says, shaking his head. “Some friends you are.”
He runs.
*
He finds himself in front of the bakery.
The door’s locked but the light’s still on; Changmin knocks over and over again and prays that Jaejoong’s still there.
Jaejoong arrives almost immediately; upon seeing the state Changmin’s in he quickly opens the door and greets him with a concerned, “Changmin, what’re you doing back here? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He attempts to make his voice breezy but it comes out strained. God damn it, he thinks, and punches the wall. Fuck. Ow. His knuckles throb and he swears softly under his breath. “Everything’s just perfect.”
“Hey,” Jaejoong says, alarmed, catching his hand before he can do it again. “Changmin. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he says, frustrated. “It was nothing. My friends— I overreacted.”
Jaejoong doesn’t say anything, but sits on the counter and waits for him to calm down, absentmindedly patting Changmin’s hand in a soothing gesture.
Seconds tick by, and his anger gradually dissipates. He feels tired. Numb. “My friends,” Changmin finally admits. “They’re moving. They’re leaving, and they didn’t tell me.” He breaks off abruptly, uncomfortable, and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I came here, I just needed to get away, I didn’t mean to bother—”
Jaejoong grabs his arm. “Oh no you don’t,” he says firmly, and pulls him towards the counter as well. “Sit. You’re not going anywhere until you sort this out.”
For reasons Changmin cannot quite fathom, he ends up sitting next to Jaejoong, leaning on him, telling him the whole story. Jaejoong puts his arm around Changmin in a comforting way and doesn’t interrupt once.
“They’re my only friends,” Changmin finishes. “When they leave, I won’t have anyone.”
Jaejoong processes the statement, a thoughtful look on his face. “Does that mean,” he says slowly, “that I’ll have more friends than you?”
There’s a pause.
“You ass,” Changmin exclaims, and shoves him off the counter, but he starts laughing and feels, suddenly, so much better about the whole thing. “What kind of person says that? You’re supposed to be sympathetic. You’re supposed to give me advice.”
“Fine. You want advice?” Jaejoong leans forward, until his face is inches away from Changmin’s, a hand on either side of his legs. Changmin feels a strange fluttery sensation in his stomach. “Go talk to them,” he says softly. “They’re still your friends, no matter how angry you may be right now.”
*
Their departure leaves Changmin gloomy for a week.
He had gone to see them (not because Jaejoong told him to, but because he wanted to) before they left, and they had talked. Junsu and Yunho apologized for not telling him, Changmin apologized for getting so angry, and all was forgiven. They told him why they were moving; Junsu’s parents wanted a house closer to his college, and since Yunho was going there too, he’d decided to come along too. They had cried and hugged and said how much they would miss each other, but in the end Junsu and Yunho were going off to a bright new future and leaving Changmin behind.
Not to mention Jaejoong, probably the only person who could cheer him up, seems to be avoiding him.
To be honest, he’s not even sure how he feels about Jaejoong anymore. He can’t stop thinking of him, of his eyes and lips and smile and the way he had touched his hand, comforted him, stared at him—
But he’s not gay. He can’t be. He’s never once considered the possibility that he was gay before, never felt this way about another male before— and besides, he reasons with himself, even if he is gay, that doesn’t guarantee Jaejoong likes him back.
He walks to the bakery with these questions still turning in his head, and gets no closer to answering them by the time he gets there. Before he opens the door, however, he notices the small ‘closed’ sign dangling in the window. He frowns; he doesn’t remember being told there was no work today, but on the bright side, he now has the rest of the day to agonize over his problems.
He goes to a nearby park.
It’s relatively empty, considering how early it is. The only other person Changmin sees is a slightly older man who looks even more out of place there than Changmin. But despite the man’s designer sunglasses and neatly pressed clothes, there’s something familiar about him.
The name comes to him a second before he hears another, very familiar, voice shout it.
“Park Yoochun!”
Changmin cranes his neck and sees Jaejoong appear out of nowhere, cheeks flushed from the wind and smiling delightedly. He looks beautiful, and the realization makes Changmin’s chest hurt. He feels like a goddamn voyeur for watching, for spying on Jaejoong’s private life, but he can’t look away.
He can’t look away when he sees them hug, when he sees them kiss, a slow and familiar kiss like they’ve got all the time in the world, even though his eyes sting and he feels like he’s been slapped. He wonders how long they’ve been together, wonders if they’ve been dating since high school, and God, he’s such an idiot. He sits, frozen, and catches bits of their conversation.
“—haven’t seen you in fucking forever, Yoochun—”
“—how can you stand living in this town for so long—”
“—come on, let’s go somewhere more private—”
“—of all the places to meet up, and you pick a park—”
He watches them walk away, arms slung around each other like best friends. Like lovers.
Well, at any rate, he’s gotten the answers to his questions.
Jaejoong is gay.
I am in love with him.
He’s not in love with me.
*
If he was in a bad mood before, it’s nothing compared to how he feels now. But he has a right to be mad; people are allowed to be bitter and angry when they realize the possible love of their life is already taken. “Why do I have the worst luck in the world?” he wonders to himself, squashing and squeezing and strangling the dough. It’s very therapeutic.
When Jaejoong comes in, Changmin glowers at him. Jaejoong doesn’t seem to notice, though. He touches him six times in two hours: two pats on the back, a punch to the shoulder, an arm slung around his shoulder, and two hand grabbings. Changmin wonders if he can last the rest of the summer without going crazy, being around Jaejoong eight hours a day, seven days a week.
“Hey, Changmin,” Jaejoong says, tapping his shoulder. Touch number seven.
“What?” Changmin snaps, voice rough with bitterness and lack of sleep. He turns to scowl at Jaejoong, only to find him inches away from his face. His breath catches in his throat, anger fading, dying, replaced with something that hurts in an aching sort of way.
“You’ve got flour on your cheek,” Jaejoong says softly, fingers gently reaching up and brushing it away. “There.”
Changmin’s cheek tingles; he can’t look away— Jaejoong’s eyes are dark and his lips are pink and he’s smiling at him, just him. Changmin can feel his pulse thrumming in his ears because he likes him, he really likes him, and without thinking he leans forward.
For a second Changmin feels the warm press of lips against his own, and then he jerks away, face flaming and heart racing.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, horrified. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I just— you—”
Jaejoong still looks stunned, but he grabs one of Changmin’s flailing hands and stares at him. “God. Stop apologizing for like a second and tell me— tell me that wasn't a joke,” he says, voice low and serious.
“I shouldn't have done it,” Changmin cries. “You have a boyfriend!” he protests, not caring if he sounds like a stalker. “I— I saw you kiss him.”
“Yoochun?” Jaejoong drops Changmin’s hand in surprise. “Yesterday, in the park? We were breaking up,” he explains, a worried expression on his face. “He told me he didn’t think it was really working out, and I agreed with him.”
“Oh,” Changmin says blankly, and the same fluttery sensation returns to his chest. “Oh.”
“He was my only friend,” Jaejoong continues, and his voice is so sad that Changmin panics for a second before he notices the grin on his face. “Now that he’s gone, I don’t have anyone.”
“Am I supposed to tell you to go talk to him?” Changmin asks. “Because I really don’t want to.”
Jaejoong starts laughing, and almost manages to push Changmin over. “Way to kill the mood, Changmin.” He sighs melodramatically. “Then, I guess it looks like we’re stuck with each other. It’s a good thing that I like you, huh?”
“Good thing I like you,” Changmin corrects him. “Everyone else still thinks you’re weird.”
Jaejoong elbows him. “Hey. You’re lucky you met me, you know,” he announces. “No one else would put up with this much abuse.”
