I don’t really know why I used this song.  I’m actually not a Justin Bieber fan at all (I’m not bashing any fans in any way though, God I get enough for liking K-pop so I’m definitely not one to judge the type of music people like.)

But the inspiration for this one-shot hit me as I was listening to his new song, so I went with it.

This is my first time writing a Super Junior fanfiction, so hopefully it’s not too bad!  (Obviously I don't own any of the characters, no matter how much I wish I did, and the lyrics aren't mine either.)  Enjoy~

P.s. I'm sorry it's so cheesy haha~

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Lee Donghae was a hopeless romantic.  He’d always been a dreamer, his heads up in the clouds.  In the sandbox, he’d been the kid convinced they were on a quest through the Egyptian desert to save some princess trapped in a fantasy castle.  As he’d aged, his interest in princesses had dimmed, but his naivety had remained.  Lee Donghae, no matter how many years passed, always retained that childish mentality that love conquered all.

Lee Hyukjae was a realist.  The one who took responsibility, who cleared up after his messes, discouraged the crazier ideas in favour of practicality. Sometimes he felt more like a parent than a boyfriend, but that was his role in the relationship. If Donghae was a dream, Hyukjae was reality.

And yet, despite their differences, they still complimented each other well.  Donghae was Hyukjae’s whole world.  Hyukjae liked being the only one the younger turned to, the one he trusted more than anyone.  While he’d never admit something so clichéd out loud, Hyukjae knew he couldn’t survive without him, either.  The childish grins, the impulsive decisions, the warmth of his hands when they linked fingers – these were things Hyukjae needed. 

So when Donghae had whispered to him of his dream to be a singer, he’d supported him.  When Donghae had considered auditioning for SM Entertainment, Hyukjae had sent in the tape.  When Donghae had left Mokpo for Seoul, he had followed.  It was a decision he’d never come to regret, because it was one that brought Donghae happiness.

We both know it’s a cruel world.  But I will take my chances,

But as he stared down at the red, bold print glaring up from the page before him, he felt his throat clench painfully.  The numerals seemed to taunt him, multiplying with each envelope he tore open.  His despair continued to grow as the decimal place stretched further from the dollar sign. 

There was no way they could pay this. 

They were far from living above their means as it was - Hyukjae had already cut back their expenses to the minimum, surviving on the barest of essentials.  This was the cheapest one-bedroom apartment he could find in all of Seoul.  Even describing the furniture as scant would be a stretch.  Hell, they didn’t even have a dining room table, eating the leftovers from the restaurant Hyukjae worked at seated with their backs against one of the four walls that encompassed the entire apartment.  They no longer even the lights, in favour of using the candles Donghae had smuggled from Mokpo.  “Candlelight is so pretty anyway, Hyukkie.” 

There was nothing they could cut down on.

His mind scrounged for a solution, a way out.  There was no one he could turn to for a loan – their parents hadn’t spoken to them since they’d left Mokpo.  They were two kids without tertiary education, no bank would agree to lend them the sum they needed – they’d never be able to pay them back, anyway.  There was nothing either of them owned that could be sold for a decent price.  Hyukjae had already pawned the majority of the kitchen appliances weeks ago.  He couldn’t ask the landlord for more time, they were already two months behind on rent.  He couldn’t ask his employer for more work, the restaurant he worked at could barely afford to pay him for the hours he already had.  And that job had been hard enough to find, as it was.

The figures before him began to swim, hopelessness and fear overwhelming his mind.  What would they do?  Where would they go? 

A more terrifying question fought its way to the surface.  How could he tell Donghae?  Donghae relied upon him to sort out this stuff – this was his role. Donghae was the dreamer, Hyukjae was the realist. 

Hyukjae was the failure.

His heart clenched.  All he could picture was Donghae’s smiling, trusting face.  Donghae was thriving as a trainee.  Everyday, he’d rush home with excitement twinkling in his eyes, his voice enthusiastic and words fast-paced as he’d share what he’d learned, who he’d met, how he’d improved.

How could he take away his happiness?

It was this moment that said male entered the apartment, cheeks flushed with crimson from the frigid air of Seoul’s winter.

“Hyuk, you’ll never guess what I walked past on the way home-“  Hyukjae cringed as the words cut off abruptly - he’d covered his face too late.  Donghae was silent for a few moments, and Hyukjae could hear the thud of Donghae’s discarded shoes as they hit the ground, the thumps of Donghae’s footsteps as they approached him.

“Hyukjae, why are you crying?!”  He exclaimed, his tone concerned.

It was all he could do not to sob harder.

Strong arms embraced his shoulders, and he found himself pulled against a broad chest, hands trailing up and down his arms.  Hyukjae wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, with Donghae whispering soft pleas for him to calm down, fingers moving only to trace soothing circles on his back. 

Donghae didn’t ask any more questions.  Even if he was irresponsible, he wasn’t stupid, and it wasn’t hard to piece together the sea of scattered bills and Hyukjae’s tears.

“I’m sorry,” was all Hyukjae could murmur, once his crying had subsided, guilt overwhelming.  He felt Donghae draw him back, but refused to meet his eyes.  He didn’t want to see the disappointment that was sure to be shrouded there.

“Look at me,” Donghae pleaded softly, after a few moments.  Hyukjae could never refuse that tone of voice. 

“Lee Hyukjae, you have nothing to apologise for.  Please stop crying?” The conviction in Donghae’s eyes surprised him.

Don’t stress and don’t cry, we don’t need no wings to fly,

Hyukjae’s eyes widened in disbelief.  “Donghae, you do understand what this means right?”

Donghae nodded his head in confirmation, his fingers moving to wipe the tears from Hyukjae’s eyelashes.  Hyukjae fought hard to fight the frustration rising within him.  Donghae clearly didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation.  The realist swiped Donghae’s hand away, taking a deep breath. 

“We’re going to get evicted.”

“I know, I don’t care.”

White, hot anger engulfed Hyukjae, his whole body suddenly burning as Donghae continued to stare at him, his gaze unwavering.  There he was, head in the clouds again, clearly uncomprehending everything. 

“So you don’t care that your dream will end?  Donghae, we can’t afford to stay in Seoul anymore – you can’t sing anymore!”  The volume was too loud for their tiny apartment, and the exasperation did little to hide the despair that was evident in his voice.  There was no way Donghae couldn’t care about all he’d worked so hard to achieve being ripped from him.  There was no way he couldn’t care about the dream that gave him so much fulfilment crumbling before his very eyes. 

Donghae didn’t hesitate.  “I know.”

 “But-“

Donghae didn’t let him finish.  “Hyukjae, I don’t care.” 

As long as you love me,

“I don’t care where we live.  I don’t care what we eat.  I don’t care what I’m employed as.”

We could be starving, we could be homeless, we could be broke,

“Even if we have to pack our bags and head back to Mokpo, or live on the street – I don’t care.”

As long as you love me,

“I don’t need a roof over my head.  I don’t need to follow my dreams.  I don’t need screaming fangirls, or hundreds of thousands of won.”

I'll be your platinum, I'll be your silver, I'll be your gold,

“There’s only one thing I do care about.  There’s only one thing I need.”

Hyukjae was too shocked to scoff as he usually would, at what he was implying.  It shouldn’t be so surprising, Donghae had always been a hopeless romantic.  But as he stared at the determined set to Donghae’s jaw, Hyukjae realised he’d never comprehended the true extent of Donghae’s beliefs.  He felt a warmth spread through his chest, his lips upturning without him realising.

“Hyukjae, there’s only one thing I’m truly certain of, and it’s that all I need is you.”

He could feel the prickling sensation of tears forming in his eyes.  Donghae’s voice never faltered, his gaze never wavered.  In the 18 and a half years he’d known him, he’d never heard the younger sound more sincere.  This fixed nothing of course, there was still no solution in sight.  And yet somehow, it didn't seem to matter anymore.  It took a few moments before Hyukjae could speak.

“That has to be the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Donghae laughed in delight, his childish grin appearing as he brought his lips closer to the older’s.  “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

As long as you love me.