A/N: Finally! I get this posted! Sorry for the long wait. I went back and forth on this chapter a bit, but I think I'm happy with it at last. Though it's not exactly a happy chapter, I'm hoping you'll still find it enjoyable //crosses fingers// And I should have chapter 3 up sooner than this last go around. Also, I did a fair amount of research on this, but not *every* little detail matches with reality--I took a bit of creative liberty here and there. This is fiction after all! (have to keep reminding myself that, lol) Enjoy! 

Chapter 2

June 2015 – Cheoin-gu, Yongin

Kim Jaejoong asked himself why he was doing what he was doing for the 100^th time that day.

“How can he make you do this? You’re like a big celebrity and all,” Private Park Seunghoon, another member of his squad in the 55^th infantry, griped. He was a full eight years younger than Jaejoong and had a funny personality—he complained a lot, but always finished whatever work was thrown his way. Today he’d been paired up to be the older soldier’s helping hand.

Jaejoong sighed and rung out the mop he’d been soaking in disinfectant.

“Even celebrities have to get their hands dirty sometimes.”

Dirty was an understatement. They had been given the task of cleaning the latrine, showers and locker rooms—what would have normally been a two day event had been upon them with the stipulation that if it wasn’t finished today, they’d have to make it up in some other way.

But isn’t this already punishment enough?

He wasn’t even sure why they were being punished like this—he felt personally targeted. Staff Sergeant Lee, the ranking soldier in their immediate platoon, had assigned the work. He’d said that everyone had to take turns keeping the barracks clean—no matter who you are—and that Jaejoong was not above janitorial duties just because he was an idol.

He didn’t disagree, didn’t want to be treated differently from the other soldiers, but somehow he felt like his superior, a guy who was also a couple years younger than Jaejoong (sometimes it felt like everyone was younger than him. When had time snuck up on him like that?), was purposely looking for ways to give him a hard time.

The exceptionally handsome singer had experienced things like this before; sometimes men had an attitude towards him because they felt threatened by his fame and popularity with women. Usually Jaejoong would just ignore it and keep on a pleasant face—“kill them with kindness” was a tactic he pulled out in tense situations with strangers.

Jaejoong planned on doing the same with Staff Sergeant Big Shot. He had no issue with him and didn’t want to fight or play “who’s the bigger man.” He wanted his time in the R.O.K. army to be as painless as possible.

“It’s because he assumes you think you’re too good for the rest of us.” Seunghoon said suddenly as he pushed open one of the bathroom stalls to mop around the toilet.

Jaejoong followed suit, taking the side with the urinals, mopping the tiles listlessly.

“Do you think that?”

Seunghoon stopped to look at the older soldier. “I guess I figured someone as famous as you would be that way. But after meeting you, you’re not what I thought. You’re kind of like the ‘hyung next door.’”

Jaejoong chuckled. Coming from this kid, that was a pretty big compliment.

That was how he wanted things to be, he wanted to be seen as an ordinary guy, for once a regular person rather than an idol. But after he’d performed for the whole regiment at the end of May, many of his fellow soldiers had started looking at him with awed expressions, like they’d all just suddenly realized he was really a singer. And it was since then that his harsh ranking officer turned extra icy towards him.

Jaejoong shrugged. There wasn’t much he could do about it. He’d learned pretty quickly that he couldn’t be too concerned with what others thought of him. The only ones he worried about were his fans—the antis and the envious haters had to roll off his shoulders or he’d be weighed down to the point of being unable to move.

The two privates went about scrubbing and cleaning the latrine, falling into a concentrated silence. But by the time Jaejoong was finished with his fifth toilet, he had worked up a sweat and burned through about all his patience. He was angry.

He’d joined the Army Band because he wanted the opportunity to perform while he was serving—he didn’t want to get rusty. And he honestly enjoyed entertaining people. Even if it was just for other soldiers, if he could lighten their load the slightest bit, make the young men who worked so hard smile, he felt like he could keep going. Performing in front of an audience, feeding off the energy of an excited crowd—it rejuvenated him. Made him feel like himself, something he’d been struggling to maintain after becoming a soldier.

But now, what was this? His performance had pissed the Staff Sergeant off enough to get him stuck cleaning latrines? It wasn't fair. Why should he have to pay for the other man’s insecurities? He talked big about getting his hands dirty, but the truth was he had always been a bit of a clean freak and was easily grossed out by other’s filth. His mother had kept an impeccably clean house when he was growing up and the compulsion had stuck with him the rest of his life.

He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of one arm, not wanting to touch his face with his soiled rubber gloves, and then leaned back against the stall, feeling weary exhaustion work it’s way across his back and shoulders. He thought back to that performance a couple weeks before. He’d been more nervous that day than he’d been in a long while. It felt like he was proving himself to his fellow soldiers. When he performed for his fans he knew he was always embraced and loved. For this group of men he didn’t know that well—that was suddenly a bit scary.

He’d thought about Yunho in that moment before going on stage. Wondered if he would be nervous if he were in Jaejoong’s shoes. His fearless leader had always been so confident before performances (except for a brief period of time after he’d been hospitalized because of that terrible poisoning attempt)—surely he wouldn’t have been afraid to get up in front of his comrades and give them a show. Still, Jaejoong could feel those butterflies in his stomach.

He couldn’t help but have Yunho on his brain that night. The song he sang, Though I Loved You by Kim Kwang Seok, had long been a favorite of his former lover’s. He supposed it was no accident he’d chosen it—his heart had been heavy with thoughts of Yunho since he’d received that letter in April.

Though I wanted to remain close by your side
I had no choice but to leave
Though I loved you

Sometimes I will shed tears longing for you
Sometimes my heart will twinge with loneliness
Though I loved you Though I loved you
 

Jaejoong came back to the present as he heard Seunghoon flushing one of the urinals, his heart feeling tight in his chest. If he was being honest with himself, cleaning bathrooms wasn’t the only thing that had him fuming. But the truth only made him that much more upset.

He was annoyed that he hadn’t had any word from Yunho since his letter in April. He’d said he wasn’t giving up, but it had been months without a peep. Jaejoong had experienced Yunho’s persistent side in the past and this just didn’t seem to add up.  Had he gotten distracted since Jaejoong joined the army?

Feeling that way was infuriating. Would he always experience such crippling insecurity when it came to Yunho? Did he really not trust in him after all this time? Was it so hard to believe he really loved Jaejoong and that he wouldn’t be frightened off at the slightest bump in the road? That he wouldn’t change his mind and decide he couldn’t handle being with Jaejoong anymore, the way he’d done all those years before?

It was all so ridiculous. He was the one who called it off this last time, for goodness sake. But the truth was, he’d wanted to be proven wrong. He’d wanted it to work. He’d wanted to believe that maybe Yunho was right and that it would be different this go-around. But the moment things had gotten complicated, the moment Yunho’s parents had gotten involved, he’d fallen back into old habits, backing down and leaving Jaejoong to the wolves.

He went back to his scrubbing. He didn’t want to think about it. If only he could stop thinking about Yunho entirely. But he wouldn’t let him.

He made forgetting him absolutely impossible.

*****

December 2013 – Osaka

Kim Jaejoong’s life was always a whirlwind. For 10 full years, it felt like it never slowed down.

At one point he’d been terrified that his career was over—at that time a slow life felt like the enemy, the result of utter failure, to be avoided at all costs.

Now he was unsure how he’d ever feared that. His career had continued to be busy as ever; sometimes it felt like even more than before. Though JYJ weren’t constantly active, his work as a solo artist was just as demanding, if not more so. His first full album WWW was a huge success and there were endless promotions and preparations for his Asia concert tour.

On top of it all his personal life had gotten complicated and frustrating.

Since August, Yunho had continued to persistently contact and message him. Making it clear over and over that he wasn’t going to let go, that he wasn’t giving up. It started with calls. He’d call often, every couple days, many times with the excuse of “just wanting to hear your voice.” It was as if that night in the park when he’d turned Yunho down had never happened. Or at least, it didn’t seem to slow or faze the other man.

Jaejoong was determined not to be charmed. He eventually stopped answering his calls, telling himself it was really because he was so busy with his album, not that he was avoiding him.

Though the calls became less frequent, the texts picked up.

­­­­­­– What are you up to?

– Jaejoong-ah . . . Fighting!!!

– Are you in Seoul? Do you want to check out this new bar? A friend of mine owns it and can give us the VIP room.

– I had a dream about you last night

– I miss you…

What could he say? Jaejoong felt incredibly conflicted and it got to the point where all these attempts only pained him. He wanted to text him back. But he didn’t want to keep encouraging him. He also worried for himself—his will power was only so strong when it came to Jung Yunho.  But as much as he might have wanted to give in, he knew in the end all they had to offer each other was pain.

Yet even after weeks of ignoring him, Yunho didn’t stop. A gift arrived—his road manager Youngjun thought it was from one of his wealthier fans, but Jaejoong knew better.  He opened up the box, revealing the sleek set of black B&O headphones—they were quality headphones—he’d been told to look into them. How had Yunho known he wanted this?

He noticed a folded note on funny stationary (Rilakkuma, a cute little bear) sticking out at the bottom of the box. Jaejoong snatched it up before his hyung noticed and slid it into his back pocket.

“Well whoever sent it knows your taste. Aren’t these the headphones you’d been talking about ordering?” Youngjun inspected the package.

Jaejoong just shrugged, finding that playing dumb was often a good way out of getting asked too many questions.

“You lucky bastard,” his manager joked. “You’re fans send you what you want before you even ask. It’s like you’re surrounded by thousands of fairy godmothers.”

His older friend laughed and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder to let him know he was just messing with him, then walked off to look for the head wardrobe coordinator—he was going to be getting into hair and make-up soon and his first look for that night hadn’t been finalized.

After he disappeared and the idol was alone, he pulled out the note eagerly, flipping it open, wanting to see what Yunho had written. There was one line—

I got mine in white.

xx

Jaejoong had to laugh. Couple headphones? Yunho was too much sometimes—he knew (somehow) that this was the brand Jaejoong had been looking into, so of course he would use them. And he couldn’t stop him from buying his own in another color.

He shook his head, still chuckling and took his present to where he kept his stuff, stashing it in his shoulder bag. Yunho sure was making things difficult.

Now a couple weeks later, already in the first part of December, Jaejoong was still touring with his solo concert. He decided to make his penthouse in Tokyo his home base for the duration of his tour; even though he’d just gotten back from Nanjing and his mom had been asking for him to stay awhile in Korea, spending his time in Tokyo gave him an excuse to get away from the Seoul crowd. He needed a breather. He would be back in Seoul after the first of the New Year, and he’d see his family then. Besides, he always missed hanging out with his Japanese friends—interesting, eccentric artists who treated Jaejoong like he was one of them, not a celebrity, but a free thinker, an artistic soul.

Though he knew, more than anything, he was using it as a way to run away and not have to face the situation with his former lover. To say he’d been distracted and flustered by Yunho’s ongoing attempts at winning him over was an understatement. He was trying to keep his head together and focus on his work—that really was most important to him. He couldn’t be having these distractions; couldn’t Yunho understand?

Since he’d been back in Tokyo, he’d taken to early morning walks to help clear his head. He had a couple days before his concerts in Osaka and he was trying to prepare himself, physically, mentally and spiritually. It may have seemed a little over the top, but he always went to great lengths to perform his best for his fans. Performing felt like the only thing that kept him sane, kept him going. That’s what this was all for, all this sacrifice. The rush of the crowd, the thrill of singing, surrounded by lights and screams—it was what he’d always dreamt of, since he was no more than a boy. It had to be worth it. Worth it all.

That’s what he told himself as he walked the quiet 5:00am streets in his Azabu-Juban neighborhood. He felt like he’d chosen this life, chosen to be a public figure, so had to forgo other worldly happiness. Some people were meant to meet the love of their life and live happily ever after, others were meant to sell out stadiums around the world and perform for adoring fans. Maybe that was all the love he was allotted in this lifetime. Honestly, he felt like it was enough. His fans were enough for him.

Romance, especially with a particular person he’d once thought was the most important thing in his world, was not in the cards for Kim Jaejoong. And really, if he thought about it, he’d had enough romance during those years they were together, enough memories to last him a lifetime: countless kisses and smiles and whispers of love. Endless caresses and sighs—from ecstatic ual releases all the way down to simply grazing hands, a secret look across the room.

The memories made his heart pound, he hadn’t even been running, but he felt a little out of breath. He looped back around towards his penthouse; there was a little shop that opened extra early to feed those on the early shifts (or those getting home from late shifts). It was not much more than a stand, but he could warm up for a few minutes and get some tea to soothe his throat.

The sky was growing lighter little by little as the sun prepared to break over the horizon. Soon more people would be out on the streets; it was just as well he turned back in the direction of his place. Maybe he would try to get a little more sleep before rehearsals. It seemed like his insomnia wouldn’t quit since he’d started touring. Could it be because he felt anxious ignoring Yunho? Anxious the other man continued contacting him despite that fact?

He stopped at the little snack shop and ordered a tea to go. He looked at the menu, appreciating the dishes they had to offer, and decided he’d try the food some other time. He wanted to get home quickly; he still had to shower and his rehearsal with the band started at 7:00am that morning.

Jaejoong thanked the obaa-san for his tea and crossed the street to head back to his place.

“Jaejoong-ah!” A voice called behind him and sharp electricity shot through his body. He knew that voice. But how was it possible?

He turned slowly to see the exact person he’d been thinking about, the one who had his head spinning and had him running as fast as he could from his feelings, even pushing aside his own mother’s request that he visit and hiding in another country. That person. Jung Yunho. He made his heart race with excitement and blood boil with frustration all at the same time. No one else made him feel so crazy. And now he was here in Japan—on his morning walking route?  

“I can’t believe I’m running into you like this. I was just thinking about you,” Yunho smiled as he approached the shocked solo artist.

He was wearing jogging clothes, grey sweats and a white hoodie. Wasn’t he cold? How long had he been out there running? Why was he out there running? These were all questions he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t get his mouth to connect with his brain.

“What are you doing here?” Is what came out, and harsher than he really intended. But he was so thrown off guard he’d immediately gone into defense mode.

“I’m visiting some friends in the area for a couple days. Before our promotions really pick up back home.” The tall, handsome man was all ease and smiles, as if Jaejoong wasn’t staring at him like his head had grown tentacles, as if he hadn’t been ignoring his texts, calls, and gifts for weeks.

“What friends?”

He thought he saw Yunho hesitate momentarily and then: “Hisashi-san and Riko-san.”

Old mutual friends of theirs; they were a young married couple that had worked on their staff, Hisashi-san as one of the managers and Riko-san in the wardrobe department. Since their jobs were demanding and time consuming, they worked together to be able to see each other. It wasn’t all that different from their own situation, so the two couples had become fairly close. Jaejoong didn’t know Yunho still saw them; Jaejoong had unfortunately lost touch.

“I haven’t seen them in ages,” Jaejoong sighed, suddenly regretful that he’d let their friendship lapse. He’d particularly liked Riko-san, she reminded him a bit of his immediate older sister. He remembered they had laughed quite a bit and dished about their “husbands.”

“Is Riko-san well?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Yunho smiled. “She’s great. Busy and spunky as ever. She and Hisashi-san still work at Avex, but they’re with another group now.”

Jaejoong nodded, and then suddenly came back to the real issue. Why was Yunho visiting them now of all times? Wasn’t he preparing to release a Korean album with Changmin? He’d heard the announcement in November—it was one of the reasons he figured he’d be safe in Tokyo. Yunho said he was visiting before promotions picked up, but shouldn’t he already be in the midst of it now?

“I really can’t believe we ran into each other,” Yunho said again, shaking his head in amazement.

Jaejoong said nothing.

“You look great. You’ve been touring? I’m sure you’ve been busy.” He continued, filling up the silence with his voice.

“Yeah, I’ve been really busy…” Jaejoong furrowed his brow, trying to figure this man out.

Why had he really come to Japan, and that area in particular? He knew how things worked, especially with S.M. Entertainment; he should have been in Seoul doing everything that goes into releasing an album—the photo shoots and press conferences and rehearsals and filming. The preparation was endless. But he’d what, decided to take a little break and visit old friends?

“What’s the real reason you’re here?” Jaejoong asked, his desire to know the truth bursting straight through any niceties. He couldn’t play Yunho’s game and pretend everything was nice and normal.

The larger man shrugged. “I came out for a jog. I like this route; it’s quiet.”

“No, why are you in Japan at all? In this area of Tokyo? Did you know I was here? Did you come here for me? What? Are you stalking me now?”

The minute he said the words he regretted it, but sometimes he couldn’t control that mouth of his. He didn’t always think before he spoke, words just tumbled out.

Yunho was silent; he looked down, suddenly serious.

“It’s true I’ve missed you,” his voice was low, slightly strained. Had Jaejoong made him angry?

“As for being a stalker…” He said the word as if tasting something nasty. “You can believe whatever you want, but I really did run into you by accident. I went out because I was having a hard time sleeping. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

This was all too much for Jaejoong at this hour of the morning. He didn’t want to take part in their same old dance and play the complicated relationship game. He had to retreat, get himself out of the situation.

“Yunho, I’ve got to go.”

“Wait, don’t rush off—do you want to get some breakfast?”

He had already started moving away; feeling suddenly like he had to move or he would be drawn back in, roped into Jung Yunho’s steps.

“I need to get back. I’ve got a full schedule today.”

“You can’t wait ten minutes to catch up?”

“I’m sorry. We’ll…talk later.”

With that he turned his back completely and power walked as quickly as he could back to his house, feeling like he was trying to outrun a tiger, a majestic, yet dangerous creature tracking his prey and drawing in to pounce.

Jaejoong was weak. He tried to be strong, but he was weaker than he liked to admit. And his number one weakness had always been Jung Yunho. He knew he was still his weakness, and he’d sworn to himself that he would move on with life and be as happy and healthy as possible. But he couldn’t do it with Yunho that close. He had to keep him at arms length, had to ignore his attempts at closeness—for the both of them. It seemed like he was the only one thinking straight.

By the time he got to his place and kicked off his shoes, it felt like his chest was twisted in painful knots. He didn’t want to be like this, he didn’t want to do this to Yunho. He wanted to answer his texts and he wanted things to be comfortable between them; he wanted to be able to go out and get dinner and catch up and smile and laugh and feel happy with that, not needing anything more. But Yunho was making that impossible. The way he was being right now, if Jaejoong showed any sort of response he’d take it as encouragement.

He wandered to his bathroom like a zombie, deep inside his own thoughts. He hadn’t lied when he told him he had a full schedule that day (like almost every day), and he was going to be heading to Osaka tomorrow to prep for the show there—he’d been told they were going to start building the stage that afternoon and work through the night so it would be ready. For what felt like the thousandth time, he reminded himself he had more important things to be thinking about. Work, his true passion, came first.

But as he stood under the hot stream of water showering down on him (he’d had this installed specially since most Japanese houses only had bathtubs), he was struck by a disturbing thought, hitting him like a punch to the gut.

Somewhere along the way he and Yunho had traded places. What he was doing right now, the way he was acting was exactly the way Yunho had behaved when they’d broken up back in 2009. He’d been cold and rebuked every attempt Jaejoong made to win his favor. However Yunho had told him recently that he had wanted to give in to him, that he’d hated treating Jaejoong the way he had.

Was this what he’d experienced then? Feeling like it was better that they weren’t romantically involved, even though his body still reacted and had desires—that never ending chemical attraction. Wanting to try to find some way to be friendly with each other and carry on, yet being unable because Jaejoong was always throwing himself at him?

The lean, blonde idol felt tears well up in his eyes and he curled his hand into a fist, feeling like he wanted to beat something—himself possibly. He’d thought he’d cried all his tears over Jung Yunho, but they persisted. He would never be able to move on. He was too much a part of him, engrained in him like a carving in stone.

He washed it all down the drain, washed his tears and sadness away. He had business to take care of, and he was nothing if not a professional.

The day started with rehearsal but was mostly business, various meetings with his team before they were off for the next leg of the WWW tour. It was going to be held at the Osaka-jo Hall and was the second biggest venue of the tour. He’d be performing to 30,000 fans over two nights so everything had to be perfect. They had to be prepared for any occurrence. As he’d learned through his years in the entertainment business: always prepare for the worst, that way when something goes wrong—and it inevitably will—you’ll be ready for it and can cover smoothly. For the most part these days, things went like clockwork. He’d been working with this team for the past several years and they knew how to work well with one another. Still, it was good not to get too comfortable.

Despite his best efforts to put that morning completely out of his mind, Yunho kept showing up in his thoughts throughout the day; images of him jogging up to him, smiling and waving just as happy to see Jaejoong as ever. Flashes of his physique returned to him, his broad shoulders that couldn’t be hidden by his loose fitting sweatshirt, his long strong legs and graceful hands—the trickle of sweat that ran down the side of his neck, making his skin shine in the sunlight.

Jaejoong crossed his legs at the conference table as he listened to his coordinator going over various details. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t afford to be getting hot and bothered right now, it wasn’t the time or the place. Jaejoong thought he’d learned more control than this, but what, just the thought of Yunho’s neck glistening with sweat was enough to get him hard? Was he still a teenager or something?

Somehow he made it through the day, but by the time his manager gave him a ride home that night he felt exhausted, like he’d been through a battle even though he’d mostly been in meetings all day. It had taken all his mental strength to focus and pull through.

He thought about working out, but a part of him just wanted to fall into bed and go to sleep, he was that tired. He parted ways with Youngjun, making plans for meeting up tomorrow at noon to head to the airport. He looked forward to being able to sleep in a bit (if his mind allowed him to rest)—after days of getting maybe three hours of sleep a night, he was feeling a bit unhinged. He had to be rested for the concerts.

He wandered into his spacious Tokyo penthouse without flipping any lights on and went straight to his “rest room,” a den where he had a bar and all his rare and top shelf liquors on display. He grabbed the remote to his sound system and pressed play, knowing he’d left off listening to one of his favorite American R&B groups from the 90s, All-4-One. He remembered listening to this when he was still a trainee, practicing his vocals—something about it was comforting.

He pulled off his jacket, tossing it onto the leather couch he kept for guests. He poured himself a drink and then sat in his much-loved massage chair—it was a full body massager, with a place for his legs and feet. There wasn’t much better than this after a long day, and it was one of the reasons he sometimes liked spending time at his Japanese residence more. He’d been meaning to buy one of these massage chairs for his place in Seoul and just hadn’t gotten around to it.

As he let the music and the booze calm his nerves, he started to feel himself dozing. He decided he didn’t mind falling asleep there; he didn’t have the energy to get up and go to his bed anyway. He closed his eyes—he’d just nap for a little bit and then go lay down.

He lost track of time, but the next thing he knew he could hear a bell ringing incessantly. Over and over. Ding dong. Ding dong. He opened his eyes, sitting up in the massage chair. It was his doorbell. He reached out blindly for his phone on the side table. It was almost midnight. Who was ringing his doorbell?

Jaejoong stood up, still groggy, stumbling a bit from disorientation, and wandered down his hall to the front door. What he saw on the monitor made him stop in his tracks, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“What the ,” he muttered.

What was Yunho doing there? Did he have a death wish? Wasn’t it bad enough crossing paths this morning? Why did Yunho continuously put him in this situation? Ever since that night he showed up at his place in Seoul; it was like he’d been haunting him.

His phone started to ring. Yunho was calling him too.

“Pick up your phone, you bastard,” he heard Yunho grumble over the monitor.

Jaejoong was frozen, unsure what he should do. He stared at the man outside his door. His hair was a bit messy, like he’d been running again, or dancing. His coat was open, showing his low cut white shirt underneath. He could see the rise of his muscle and felt his heart beat faster in his chest.

Yunho rang the doorbell again several times in succession and something in Jaejoong broke. He stomped to the door and threw it open, glaring at the tall, slightly disheveled (yet undeniably y) man before him.

“What the hell is wrong with you? What are you doing?” He snapped, seriously tired of his antics.

Yunho pushed past him, barging into his penthouse like a bull. Jaejoong spun around in shock—he really must have lost his mind.

“Yunho. Yunho!” He called after him as he made his way to the front living room. The large man stopped, looking around, hands on his hips, taking it in.

“I used to wonder what this place was like. Your little getaway.”

Yunho’s words took the wind out of his sails momentarily—he hadn’t thought of this place like that in a while, he’d been living there so long. It’s true though; he’d bought it not too long after Yunho had broken things off. It had just been too much being in the same living space with him all the time—it was hard enough continuing to work together.

This had been his getaway. And it had been the place where he’d done a lot of thinking about what he wanted his future to look like. It had also been the place he’d taken refuge when the truth came out about the lawsuits and things started getting ugly.

“The funny thing is you used to beg me to come here with you,” Yunho brought him back to the present situation. “And now, its almost like you don’t want to be in the same room with me.”

Jaejoong looked up at his surprise visitor. On closer inspection he could see Yunho’s eyes were red and he had a bit of beard growing in, making his face look tired, almost haggard. Had he been drinking?

“Jaejoong-ah…” He locked his gaze on the blonde singer, on the brink of tears. “Why are you being like this?”

“You’re drunk. I’m going to get you some water. ” He moved past him towards the kitchen.

“Why have you been ignoring my texts?” Yunho followed close on his heels without missing a beat. His voice had taken on a childish, whining quality, something that happened only when he was particularly smashed. So that’s why he’d shown up at his door.

Jaejoong flipped on a kitchen light and grabbed a glass, moving to the fridge to grab the water pitcher.

“I can understand not answering my calls. I didn’t really expect you to. I’m busy too—I know what it’s like,” he went on, not giving up. “But you couldn’t even text me back?”

Jaejoong slammed the fridge shut and turned to face his pursuer, holding the glass of water out to him. Yunho ignored it.

“You always respond to your texts. You text a mile a minute! I can’t believe you’re too busy to answer.”

“Drink your water.”

“I don’t want the water.”

“Sit down and drink your water!” Jaejoong barked like an angry parent.

Yunho took the glass without flinching and chugged its contents in one long swallow. Jaejoong watched his Adam’s apple bob as it ran down his throat. He looked away, flustered.

The drunken idol slammed the glass down on the counter. He would not back down.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Yunho was the one to raise his voice this time.

Jaejoong snapped his mouth shut, looking back at the other man. Yunho was staring at him intensely; he looked ready to explode—whether with fury or passion, he couldn’t tell.

“This morning you were so cold. Do you know how much it hurts, when you push me away…?”

He took a step closer to Jaejoong and his fiery exterior cracked momentarily, a flash of sadness washing over his face.

“Do you know how much I miss you?”

Jaejoong remained silent. He was just being like this because he was drunk. Yunho didn’t hold his liquor quite as well as Jaejoong. Would he even remember this conversation the next morning?

“Say something, goddamn it! You’re driving me crazy.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

They stood in silence for several moments. Yunho closed his eyes, swaying on his feet and Jaejoong startled, reaching out like he might have to steady him. But then he shuffled to a chair at his kitchen table and plopped down, the energy going out of him. He folded his arms on the table’s surface and dropped his head down, letting out a shuddering sigh.

“I feel like I’m being punished.”

Jaejoong moved towards the distressed man; it was rare that he saw him like this, but it seemed recently he’d been baring his soul to Jaejoong without hesitation. Was this really the Jung Yunho he’d once known? The one who had been so loath to show any sign of weakness, who felt he had to be strong for everyone around him? Always the shoulder the cry on and never the one who let tears fall.

He pulled out a chair next to him (but not too close) and sat down. Yunho looked up at him, eyes tired and watery.

“Are you doing this because of the way I treated you before? Is this payback?”

“That’s not why.”

But could he really say that with complete confidence?

Deep down was it his pride that was really getting in the way, leftover hard feelings? Yunho had hurt him so intensely; to get back together now as if nothing had happened—it didn’t feel right somehow. He didn’t like that Yunho always wanted to dictate their relationship. Why was it always on his terms? When he wanted to break up, he did. When he wanted to get back together, was Jaejoong just supposed to roll over and go along with it? What was to keep him from changing his mind again?

“I want us to be friends, I really do. Believe me.” He rested a gentle hand on Yunho’s arm. “But I just can't be more than that right now. I'm sorry.”

“I don't believe you,” the larger man snapped, jumping back up onto his feet, nearly toppling his chair over backwards.

“I wasn’t going to come here tonight. I told myself not to. But…I just couldn’t let it go after this morning.” He paced around the kitchen in a fury.

“You love me. I know it. And deep down, you want us to be together as much as I do.”

Jaejoong frowned watching him. He seriously looked insane.

“Yunho, stop it. Come sit back down.”

He thought momentarily about pouring himself a drink as well, but figured one of them should be in their right mind.

“What's holding you back?” Yunho wasn’t listening, stuck in his own dialogue. “Why are you fighting so hard?”

Jaejoong felt his annoyance return at the drunken man’s accuracy. Why did he have to take this? He jumped to his feet as well, taking three frustrated steps in the taller man’s direction.

“There are a hundred things holding me back. A million! You’re the one who seems to have forgotten that.”

“Because none of it matters.” Yunho laid heavy hands on Jaejoong’s shoulders, attempting a drunken massage. His touch was rough but it felt good; he couldn't deny it. That just made his frustration worse. 

“We can figure everything out together,” he insisted. “As long as we have each other.”

“Stop it. We’ve been through all this before. It's getting tiring.”

“I’m not tired. I'll never get tired.”

 Yunho moved in close, bringing his lips towards Jaejoong’s—he felt a jolt go through him.

“Will you just leave me alone?” He cried, pushing the other man away roughly, glaring at him with all the aggression he could muster.

Yunho stared back in shock, as if Jaejoong had finally gotten through to him. The slender idol ran his hands back through his hair, suddenly feeling hot.

“You have the balls to ask if I know how much this hurts? Are you ing kidding me? Of course I do! All of this hurts! It’s hurt forever and it never ends—I just want it to stop.”

“Jaejoong-ah,” he reached out half-heartedly, trying to grab his hand.

“No, goddamnit!” Jaejoong jerked away, his anger and pain all boiling over.

“You're so ing selfish! You present yourself as this caring, concerned older brother figure, but when it comes to this,” he gestured to the space between the two of them, “you're always thinking about yourself. It's always about what you want. Do you ever really think of me? Do you ever really wonder what you put me through?”

He grabbed the forgotten water glass on the counter and moved to refill it, chugging it down and trying to cool off. He thought he’d gotten past all his anger involving his former lover, yet it seemed like a never-ending wellspring, new emotions always bubbling out. Finally he turned back to Yunho, but he was still heated; it wasn’t so easy to let go.

“I do love you. You're right about that. But it’s getting to the point I hate that about myself. I wish I didn't.” Jaejoong laughed sharply, and suddenly felt an ache in the back of his eyes. He fought stinging tears.

“I just remembered. You told me once that you didn’t want to love me anymore. I never thought I’d feel the same way, but now…” he let out a heavy sigh. “I want to experience what life is like without being consumed by you.”

The words hung heavily in the air around them. Yunho stared down at the kitchen floor below his feet. He seemed so defeated. Jaejoong’s stomach twisted—maybe he’d gone a little too far?

“Let me get you some more water.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I have to get going.” He turned around to walk back towards the entranceway then stopped again suddenly.

“Ah. I almost forgot,” he reached a hand into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a dark velvet satchel.

“I brought you something.” He set it down gently on the counter.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing important. Don’t feel burdened by it.” He answered morosely then continued back towards the front of the house, never once meeting Jaejoong’s gaze.

He followed Yunho to the door. “You should stay until you sober up a little bit. Do you want anything to eat?”

“I’m fine.”

As much as he’d wanted him to leave, now he was trying to find ways to make him stay. He didn’t feel right leaving things off there, but felt helpless. He told himself he had to be harsh to get him to come to his senses. But…

He watched Yunho slip his shoes back on, unsure what to do.

“How did you get here? Did you drive? Do you want me to drive you home?”

“Jaejoong-ah,” he finally turned to meet his eyes, his hand already on the door. “Please don’t make this harder.”

The blonde singer felt a sharp jolt go through him at Yunho’s sad half-smile. He’d hurt him; he was certain of it now. He could see it in his eyes and it felt like a punch to his gut. He’d never wanted to hurt this man—he really never wanted that. He wanted him to be happy, he liked it best when he was smiling and laughing. That was enough for him, just seeing that, even if it was from a distance, just knowing that he was doing well.

And now here he was, stabbing a knife right in his heart. He knew how sharp that knife was because he’d felt it before. It had been painful enough to die—he wouldn’t have wished that on even an enemy.

Was this revenge? Was there a sick part, deep down inside that had wanted to see this, that had wanted to have the experience of denying the great Jung Yunho, of breaking his heart?

If it was true, this wasn’t what he’d thought he wanted. Now that Yunho was right before him, poorly hidden pain etched across his face, it just felt awful. Was he supposed to feel better that his ex had been brought to his knees?

Yunho finally tore his eyes away, gently opening the front door and moving to step out.

“I’m sorry I dropped in unexpected,” he said softly over his shoulder. He hesitated for a moment, then:

“Good luck with the rest of your tour. I know you’ll do great.”

With that he walked away, the door closing behind him. Jaejoong could only watch him go. When the door clicked closed, locking he covered his face with his hands, standing still in the entranceway for several moments. He breathed in deep, running his fingers back through his hair, brushing it away from his face. He needed sleep.

Jaejoong walked back through the living room into the kitchen (his bedroom was beyond that) but stopped when he remembered the satchel Yunho left on the counter. He crossed to it, curious.

His heart sped up when he saw it was a Cartier jewelry bag.

Like our rings… he thought, then pulled open the bag’s drawstring and poured its contents into his hand. A black steel bracelet fell out—it looked like a cable with a sort of U-shaped buckle in gold. He stared at the piece of jewelry as if unsure what he was looking at. There was something else in the bag and he reached in, pulling out a small folded piece of paper—Rilakkuma stationary. He held the bracelet in his left hand, letting his fingers slide over the cool metal and unfolded the note. It said simply:

Mine is in silver.

xx

Jaejoong let out a pained laugh. Yunho had bought them couple bracelets. He’d brought him this gift and Jaejoong had stomped all over his heart. He disgusted himself.

The idol hung his head, dragging his tired body to his bedroom, bracelet still gripped tightly in his hand. Telling himself over and over he did the right thing, trying so hard to convince himself he hadn’t just thrown away a wonderful opportunity, that things surely would have ended badly again. He was just saving himself more heartbreak down the road.

So why did it feel so awful? He slunk into his darkened bedroom and fell face first onto his king size bed, arms wide open to accept oblivion.

*****

June 2015 – Cheoin-gu, Yongin

Kim Jaejoong fell onto his bunk, totally exhausted after cleaning all day long.

His mind wandered back to that night almost two years before and he couldn’t help but feel a bit of lingering guilt. Still, he thought it was right he’d stood his ground, after years of giving into Jung Yunho it had been liberating to say “no.”

He looked up at the ceiling of his barracks, the other soldiers around him already sleeping and silent. It was almost like being in the dorms again, those long ago days before they’d become stars, before he and Yunho had become lovers, when they’d all been cramped into small spaces, sleeping side by side on mats or bunks. 

Private Kim Jaejoong closed his eyes, throwing one arm over his face in an attempt to block out all sounds and light. Was it still a ‘no’ with Yunho? He asked himself. Would he fight that hard to stay away from him this go around?

It felt like their relationship was a series of break-ups and reconciliations. They took turns calling it off and pushing the other away, forever cursed to repeat their cycle: drawn to one another then combusting, then finally coming back for more sweet torture. But Jaejoong had always been a bit of a masochist, so he supposed he shouldn’t be that surprised.

The idol turned soldier felt a wave of longing go through his body like electricity. He was tired of resisting—it only exhausted him.  If Yunho kept to his word and came to find him, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

Wasn’t he enlisting soon? That’s what he’d said in his letter, and that had been months before. No word since then. It was driving him crazy.

He rolled onto his side, curling his legs up onto the bed into the fetal position, suddenly chilly despite the warm summer air. He closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep.

Wait for me. Don’t give up.

The words Yunho had written in his letter swam through his mind, playing on repeat. As much as he hated to admit it, he was indeed waiting.

Maybe he’d always been waiting for him.

To Be Continued...