MINE

It felt as if he was walking on the surface of the sun. The shoes he had worn were old and beat up, and the soles were just a few steps away from falling apart altogether. If his feet wound up exposed to the hot concrete, that would be it. His legs were already aching, his throat was dry and dehydrated, and his head was spinning. Add something else on top of all that, and his misadventure would surely collapse in on itself. He wouldn't survive his first occasion of running away, and his death would be recorded in the papers as a sob story of another teenage idiot who had heartlessly abandoned his family. Let this be a warning to you all.

Jaejoong stumbled on the ends of his shoelaces and fell to his knees, catching himself only by the tips of his fingers. The concrete instantly scorched him, and he jerked back, dropping the notebook he'd been holding tightly in his hands in the process. It fell onto the baking ground, which was so hot that he thought for a moment it would burst into flames right in front of him. He grabbed it back, stinging his hands once again. Keeping the notebook safe was more important than anything. If he was going to die, this at least was something beautiful and honest he could leave behind, something that would live on more meaningfully than he could.

He tried to rise to his feet, but his body failed him. He remained squatting on the ground, his notebook clutched to his chest, his legs swaying. I'm really going to die, he realized. I stupidly ran away from home in the middle of a heatwave without water or money or a map, and now I'm lost and I'm going to die. The idea didn't bother him as much as it probably should have. He had run away in the first place to protect his secret, and now he would be taking it to the grave with him. It's fine. You don't have to be brave to die like this, you just have to let it happen. I can do that. Staying alive is what will be so, so much harder.

“...okay?”

He thought he heard a voice over the ringing in his ears. It was delusional, of course. He'd lost his way on some abandoned road, and there was no way someone else would be there. It was more likely that some part of him was afraid of dying and had dreamed up some rescuer or another to save his life before it was too late.

“Are you okay?” the voice repeated.

Jaejoong cracked open an eye. His vision was still swimming, but he thought he saw someone standing in front of him. A slim figure wearing jeans that were ripped at the knees. He tried to lift his gaze up, but his body grew exhausted at the effort. He felt his legs trembling beneath him, and all of a sudden they gave up completely.

“Hey!” the voice yelled. It was the last thing Jaejoong heard before collapsing on the hot concrete. It's a pretty voice, he thought to himself, his consciousness slowly leaving him. I'm glad I wasn't alone, in the end. What a pretty thing to hear before I die.

0o0

“Hey! Come on, come on, you need water!”

It was the voice again. Had it followed him to heaven or hell or wherever he'd ended up? But if he'd dreamed it, why didn't it sound like someone he knew? This voice, despite how panicked it was, sounded smooth and genuinely concerned. Did he know any guys like that? He was used to teasing voices, voices that mocked him for only caring about his music over everything else. Oh, you're hiding in the choir room again? If you never come out, you'll never meet any girls to sing those love songs to. Do you even like girls, or are you a--

“Please come on,” the voice said again, pleading with him.

“Yunho, if you force him, he'll only get sick.” This voice was different, and sounded like as if it belonged to an unfamiliar older woman. Why am I dreaming up this weird dialogue while I'm dying?, Jaejoong wondered. Unless...

“But what if he dies? You didn't see how bad he looked out there.”

“I can see how bad he looks now. Here, do this.” He felt something being pulled off his forehead-- a wet cloth?-- and he heard the sound of sloshing water. The next moment, a cloth was being gently pressed against his lips, trickling water slowly into his mouth.

He opened his eyes. Instead of heaven or hell or a concrete road, a brown haired boy around his age was kneeling in front of him, his brow wrinkled and mouth twisted into a frown. Behind him, a curly haired ahjumma was holding out the cloth to him and watching him drink.

“He's awake,” the boy said, his face collapsing in relief. “I thought he was going to die.”

“You've said so several times already.” The ahjumma brushed back the damp hair on Jaejoong's forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“A-all right,” Jaejoong stammered. He blinked a few times, trying to reorient himself to his surroundings now that he was fairly certain that he hadn't died. He was sitting on a saggy couch in what looked like a country house. There was a bookcase nearby stacked with cookbooks and gardening manuals, and next to it was a small black stand holding up an acoustic guitar. His eyes strayed back to the boy in front of him. He was handsome, or at least more manly than Jaejoong was, but it was the gentleness in his eyes that first struck him. Here he was, a complete stranger who had passed out on the road in a sloppy mess, and this unknown boy who didn't even know him was smiling because he was alive. How novel.

“Do you think you can eat something?” the ahjumma pressed. “Drinking is more important right now, but you could stand to get a little bit of strength back.”

“Oh... if it isn't too much trouble?” Jaejoong glanced at the boy, who nodded enthusiastically.

“I'll get something started in the kitchen, then. Yunho, keep an eye on him until I get back.”

The boy, Yunho, picked up a glass of water on the coffee table. “Do you think you can drink normally now? I was trying to help you earlier, but I didn't want to choke you or spill it.”

Jaejoong accepted it wordlessly and took a drink. The cool water felt nice over his cracked tongue, but it still seemed like it would be ages before his mouth no longer felt dry. He knew better to gulp it down at once, so he set it down for a moment and stared back into Yunho's wide and smiling eyes.

“What's your name?” Yunho asked, absently smoothing back Jaejoong's damp hair just as the ahjumma-- his mother?-- had. It felt different when he did it, and Jaejoong had to train his face to look blank rather than to instinctively flinch away.

“Kim Jaejoong.”

“I'm Jung Yunho. Were you lost?”

“Kind of.”

“... kind of lost?”

“I didn't have anywhere I was planning on going.”

“If you went out to take a walk, you should have stopped for something to drink.”

“I wasn't taking a walk. I was running away.”

“Ah...” Yunho bit his lip. “You aren't in trouble, are you?”

“I'm sure my parents be furious if they find me, but other than that...” He froze for a moment, realizing that the notebook he'd held in his hands was missing. “Where is it?” he barked, panicking. “You brought it back with me, right?”

“This?” Yunho lifted up the notebook which had been resting by his feet on the ground. “There was no way I was going anywhere without this. You wouldn't let go of it.”

Jaejoong quickly grabbed it from him and held it to his chest. He'd pretty much memorized its contents, but sometimes he worried that he would lose himself if he forgot a single word he had written. They were his treasures, but they were more than that; they were his heart itself, every little piece of himself he couldn't be open about and otherwise kept hidden.

“It must be important to you,” Yunho said softly. “If that was the only thing you brought with you.”

“They're songs,” Jaejoong said, surprising himself by coming clean about it right away. For some reason, he felt there was something in Yunho's eyes that he could trust. He knew there were people in the world who looked kind but could be cruel, but he wanted to believe that wasn't always the case. That someone who looked down at him with a sweet and friendly smile could be real.

Yunho's eyes lit up. “You write songs? That's great! I sing a little bit and play guitar, but I haven't written anything yet. I've been busy learning how to...” he trailed off. “Hey, you should teach them to me! I could learn them on my guitar and play them for you.”

“They're kind of private.”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn't think of that.”

Yunho pouted slightly, which made Jaejoong smile. He looked like such a manly guy, but the look on his face was cute. He liked that type, the kind who wasn't exactly who they appeared to be at first. So many people thought they had to be and act a certain way, but they never wound up surprising you or left you with any mysteries that made you want to know them better. Yunho had already made him curious, which was something he hadn't experienced in what felt like the longest time.

“I could let you read one,” Jajeoong said, “if you don't make me go back.”

“We could get in trouble though. The police could think we're holding you hostage.”

“Hostage? I'm not rich. It's not like you could get a ransom.”

“It will look like we kidnapped you, maybe. Or that we're assisting an underage runaway.”

“Then I guess I'll have to leave and keep walking, then.”

“Wait!” Yunho grabbed his arm, holding him in place. “Please, don't do that. At least wait until it cools off, okay? Can't you call your parents and tell them you're staying with a friend? I'm okay with pretending we know each other from school, all right?”

“If I say I'm staying with a friend, they'll still make me come back tomorrow. Besides, I'm trying to make a point by running away.”

“What, are your parents hurting you? Is something going on?” There it was again, that beautifully concerned look in Yunho's eyes. You don't know me, Jaejoong wanted to tell him. I could leave right now, and you'd forget me within a year.

“They aren't hurting me. It's just that...” He shook his head. Technically they hadn't done anything in particular wrong. All those years of pointed questions and veiled looks of concern had simply gotten the better of him at long last, and he'd wanted to put them behind him. So, when are you going to bring home a girlfriend? ...you do at least have one girl in your class that you like, don't you? Don't you think you spend a little too much time singing and working on those songs of yours? Is it possible...

“You should call them,” Yunho said, patting Jaejoong's arm. “Even if you don't go back right away, you shouldn't let them worry.”

“I don't have a phone.”

“I do. You can use it.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and placed it in Jaejoong's hand, his fingers lingering there for a bit longer than necessary. “...and you really can stay for awhile if you want to, as long as you tell them. There aren't very many people who live around here, so... I guess I could use a friend, too, huh?”

Jaejoong swallowed. It felt like his vision was swimming again for a moment, but it wasn't because of the heat this time. It was because of kindness. He felt like he had been trapped so long by people wanting and expecting things from him only to be disappointed by who he was that he had forgotten how nice it felt to have someone look at him with only a smile on their face and nothing else. He liked the feeling of Yunho holding onto him, of having someone who for once wanted him to stay.

“Okay,” he whispered, putting just the slightest pressure on Yunho's hands. “You can read just one of my songs.”

0o0

His parents had been frantic with worry by time he'd called, and they'd been prepared to drive their car out to wherever he was when he'd told them he'd found somewhere to stay. He'd had to put the ahjumma-- Yunho's aunt Minjung-- on the phone before they could even begin to calm down and hear the situation out.

Auntie Minjung had been the one to spare him in the end. Without even asking him, she'd come up with a story of how he'd come looking for work. She home-grew vegetables and worked at a farmer's market, and was hiring people to help her with her booth, but it was too far of a commute for Jaejoong to handle in a car or bus, so she was offering him the guest room at her house in exchange for him helping out with the labor. She'd had no idea he hadn't told his parents of his plans, so if they would be so forgiving, would they please consider allowing him to stay and excuse his lack of courtesy just this once?

It took some time, but Auntie Minjung finally won them over. His parents had wanted Jaejoong to get a summer job, anyways, and although they probably didn't like that he left home to find one, they were sure to be relieved that he wasn't locking himself in his room with his notebook and headphones like he usually did every summer.

“I wasn't joking about you working,” Auntie Minjung said once she'd hung up the phone. “If you're staying here, you're helping out with the vegetables. Yunho's also working with me, so you can lend him a hand.”

“There will be some heavy lifting, but I think you'll be able to do it,” Yunho said kindly. “You have some muscle on you, even if you're skinny. You didn't happen to bring some clothes with you, did you?”

“No, just my notebook.”

“Ah. Well, I think I have some old clothes in my room. Come on.” He grabbed Jaejoong's hand and helped him off the couch. “We should set up a mattress for you up there, too. You shouldn't sleep on the couch. All the springs are shot, and it would just wind up hurting your back.”

I'll be sleeping on the floor of some guy's room, Jaejoong thought to himself dizzily. Shouldn't I tell him...? No, but then he'd throw me out, wouldn't he? It's a secret. It'll stay a secret. It's not like I have a crush on him, or anything. I've only just met him.

Yunho's room was small, but it suited him. There were a few pictures of popular singers sprinkled here and there, and the dresser was littered with a collection of guitar picks and CDs. He seemed to like dance groups a lot, and even had a B-Boy DVD sitting on top of his mini-TV.

Yunho threw open a drawer and tossed out a few shirts. “I outgrew most of these, but they should fit you. As far as jeans go...” He dug out a ripped pair and held them up. “You're not all that much shorter than me, so these should work.”

“Are you sure all this is okay?” Jaejoong pressed. “Me staying here and everything?”

“We were going to be hiring someone this summer anyways. Why shouldn't it be you?” Yunho reached out and gently patted his cheek. “Don't worry about it. You seem like a good guy, so there's no reason why you should go around being sad, okay?”

“I guess...” Jaejoong shifted on his feet. I really should tell him. I'll be deceiving him if I don't...

“Can I see your song now?” Yunho asked. “Sorry if I seem over excited about it, but I don't know much about song-writing, and I'd like to try it eventually. I think it would help if I could read over someone else's work, you know?”

Jaejoong opened the notebook up to its first page and passed it to Yunho. He hated having people read his work in front of him, so he lied and said he had to go to the bathroom while Yunho looked through it. What would he think? The first song he'd written, Mine, was dark. He hadn't been happy writing it; in fact, he'd been pretty upset at everyone for continually bothering him, foisting their pretty world of confession notes and hand holding on him when he was drowning alone in his own secrets. That anger had helped him to write the words, and that was when he realized his song was the escape he had been looking for all along. When he read the song again, his anger had become beautiful. He was the one who was in power, and everyone else were simply invaders trying to destroy him from the inside.

When he came back to the room Yunho was sitting his bed, strumming his guitar as he continued to stare down at the words of Jaejoong's song. It took him a full minute to even realize that Jaejoong had walked back into the room in the first place, but when he did, his face broke into a wide smile.

“This is amazing, Jaejoong-ssi. Did you really write this yourself?”

“You like it?”

“Of course, I do. It's like your emotions were leaping out of the page at me. Do you have a melody in mind for it? Could you sing a little for me?”

Jaejoong flushed. He didn't like singing in front of people, usually. They clapped and told him that he had a nice voice, but they didn't seem to get how much he loved it. It was just something he did to them, not something he was. Even his parents thought that his singing was a cute little hobby he wouldn't get too serious about, and in the end, he was the only one his own voice mattered to.

Still, Yunho was looking at him so excitedly that he gave in and sang the first verse to him. Instead of clapping immediately after he was finished, Yunho nodded and asked him to sing it again. And again. The next time, he began strumming a few chords on his guitar and sang along with Jaejoong. He had a nice, polished voice that matched quite well with Jaejoong's more range-y style. They sang the verse together a few more times before Yunho then requested to hear Jaejoong's rendition of the chorus.

By time dinner rolled around, they'd already run through the song a few times. To Jaejoong's ears, it sounded even more beautiful than it had when he had first thought of it. He hadn't ever imagined it would come to life like this when he'd first written it, but now he felt proud that he had created something that had sounded so sweet when he and Yunho sang it together. The urge to write something new overpowered him, but at the same time he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He felt some amount of gratitude to Yunho for taking him so seriously, but a song of gratefulness didn't seem to fit into any of the words or melodies bouncing around his head.

“I'm glad I found you today,” Yunho said suddenly in between hearty bites of his miyeok guk. “If you're here, it's going to be a great summer, Jaejoong-ssi.”

“...thank you,” Jaejoong said quietly, trying to hide the pleased look on his face. Maybe he was just fooling himself again, but for now, he was just as happy to be found as Yunho was to find him.

"Don’t come here, this is my ocean
I’m scared that even this place might be contaminated
This is my ocean, my ocean
Don’t try to cover even the sun that shines on me"