Yunho’s ability to face his problems head on was not a strong one, if his prior actions were any indicator of the skill in which he managed his complex emotions, which, it was completely safe to say, they were. 

             The way he saw it, he had two options. He could dwell on Jaejoong’s words for hours, dissecting each sentence and discovering or attempting to disprove the undeniable parallels between what he had said and what Yunho felt, or, he could do what he very rarely ever did, and get a head start on the massive amounts of work he had to grade for the class. 

             And knowing Yunho, the second option was really the only one that seemed at all reasonable. So he did just that. For hours and hours he graded papers until the sun had long since run and hid from the rapidly darkening sky, until Yunho could only do his work with the accompaniment of the faded desk light at his side. 

             But now he was now staring at a stack of a couple day’s worth of completely graded papers that he had completed after his sudden surge of newfound efficiency with absolutely nothing left to do. Nothing more to occupy the time before Yoochun came home and could serve as a bit of a buffer between himself and the boy he was now forced to live with. 

             10:27. It wasn’t late enough for him to go to bed, but it was thankfully early enough for him to ride out the rest of the time in idle boredom. Or, he thought, whipping out his phone and dialing an unfortunately familiar number, he could waste it in a slightly less boring way. Emphasis on ‘slightly’. 

             “Hello?” A friendly voice called into the receiver. 

             “Hey, Yoochun.” 

             “Yunho! What’s up?”

             “Nothing, just wanted to talk,” Yunho spun around on the wheels of his chair and leaning back and forth to ease his boredom. It wasn’t terrible successful, but it was better than sitting still. 

             “You... just wanted to talk?” Yoochun asked, the incredulousness practically seeping through the phone and leaking through into the air. Yunho scowled. Just because their relationship was more abrasive than it was friendly, it didn’t mean that Yoochun had a right to be suspicious at Yunho’s simple gesture. “Liar. What are you avoiding?” 

             Yunho nearly fell right out of his chair at Yoochun’s words. Sometimes, well, the few times when Yoochun wasn’t too intoxicated to make any sense of what little thoughts he had, his intuition could be quite on point. “Avoiding?” He scoffed, attempting to match the same tone of disbelief that Yoochun had so masterfully perfected and added to his arsenal. “Nothing, Yoochun! I just wanted to talk!” 

             A few seconds of silence. “...Okay,” Yoochun finally said. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

             Yunho blinked a couple times in quiet stupidity. In his haste, he hadn’t quite prepared any suitable subjects for their less than cordial conversation. “Uh...” He fumbled, unsuccessfully glancing around the room for anything to create a loquacious spark in him, “how... how’s work?”

             “It’s... good,” Yoochun mumbled. 

             “Uh...” How could he have already run out of things to talk about? Buying time, it seemed, was not as easy as he thought it would be. 

             “Look, Yunho, just go talk to Jaejoong. Seriously, this is getting pathetic.”

             “That isn’t why I’m calling you! I just - “

             “Yunho, why the hell would you be calling me to chat? You hate me!”

             “That... isn’t true,” Yunho grumbled. A friendship with Yoochun came with its own set of frustrations, sure, but ‘hate’ was a bit powerful. 

             “Ah, how strange,” Yoochun chuckled, voice tinged with a playfulness that made a sudden nervous wave float through Yunho’s stomach. “You can’t even handle a little boy, hm?”

             The nervous wave - a slight, smooth fluctuation of emotion and nothing more - crashed over in a surge of sheer anger as he leapt up in protest. “Now hang on Yoochun - “

             “I mean he’s just a kid,” Yoochun continued, giving no indication whatsoever that he had even heard Yunho speak. But listening was never one of his stronger points. “Unless... there’s something else going on?”

             “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

             “Oh, I think I do, actually,” Yoochun said with a laugh, followed immediately by a short crack of cough and the distant sound of sniffling from his end. “Why do you refuse to talk to him?”

             Yunho sighed. The purpose of the phone call was to waste a few minutes before it was just late enough to warrant a dream filled escape, not to have a lengthy discussion on the very thing he was trying to avoid. It seemed things weren’t quite going his way on any end of the spectrum. “He’s... strange. You know that.” 

             “Yunho, he loves you,”  Yoochun said, the air of something - what was it, perhaps pleading? - hitting Yunho’s ears right along with the power of his words. It wasn’t surprise, of course. Yunho had long since learned this to be truth. It was just sheer force. Just because Yunho knew the extent of Jaejoong’s feelings, that didn’t at all soften the blow of the acknowledgement into the air. “You can’t just ignore him. You have to deal with it. And I thought you were the mature one out of the two of us...”

             “I am the mature one!” Yunho shouted. Just because he was slightly overwhelmed and maybe a bit stunted in emotional control, it did not mean Yoochun could take advantage of the situation to increase his standing. 

             “If you are, then prove it,” Yoochun said. He coughed again, this time more of a sputtering and choking noise than the quick and short burst minutes prior. “Deal with the situation instead of calling me.”

             “But Yoochun, you don’t understand. I - “

             “Oh, Yunho, I gotta go!” Yoochun interrupted. “I won’t be home tonight, so make me something tasty for breakfast when I get back! Good luck!” 

             “Yoochun you bastard I swear to god... Yoochun? Hello? Dammit...” 

             Yunho discarded his now useless phone into the cushion of his desk chair and took a couple rapids steps back and forth to ease his tension. 

             He had to deal with it, just like Yoochun had said. He couldn’t linger in this bizarre state of the in between while he let Jaejoong’s feelings dangle in the open, neither acknowledging or rejecting them. 

             Jaejoong was a child. Even though Yunho sometimes forgot this fact, it was truth. He was maybe even more fragile than the average child. His confidence seemed to be fueled only by a place of insecurity. His bold words, scathing as they may be, were nothing but a mask for the delicate and, dare he say it, feeble interior that he seemed to want to disguise more than anything in front of Yunho. And Yunho, going against every cynical fiber of his being, knew now that he had to cater to that sensitive and meek side of Jaejoong and let him down lightly, just like any proper adult would. 

             Maturity? Prior to the start of this fiasco, Yunho had always assumed he had a lot more than what he seemed to have now. But maybe it wasn’t too late to redeem himself. Maybe with the help of a few gentle words and a bit of understanding, he could spare both himself and Jaejoong any further suffering at the hands of an emotion not dealt with. 

             But he just needed a few more minutes to prepare himself. 

             The balcony was cool-winded and inviting as it always was, its metal bars slightly rusted and worn with old-age, yet no less calming and peaceful than they should have been. Out here, he could relax. He could breathe air that was not invaded by a single soul but himself. He could watch skies witnessed by hundreds, yet still unique to him alone as he stood silently on the cement with not another heartbeat beside his own, the only movement the rolling of cigarette smoke that only occasionally clouded his line of sight. 

             Even if Yunho detested the outdoors, there was something distinctly beautiful about the scattered stars and a moon that shone through the ripped seams of black and faded sky. A beauty whose full potential was only realized with full attention focused on nothing but the view. 

             It was captivating. 

             Yunho was so engrossed in the view he barely even noticed the sound of the glass door sliding open an the feeling of Jaejoong’s arm pressed up against his side as he joined him in staring at the night sky. 

             “It’s late,” he mumbled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he held his cigarette between free fingers. “You should be asleep.”

             Jaejoong giggled lightly before placing his head up against Yunho’s shoulder. “You know, sometimes I feel like you think I’m twelve...”

             “You’re fifteen. You might as well be.”

             Fifteen. Just a child. 

             It’s funny how he had almost forgotten.

             Yunho felt the warm breath of another laugh seep beneath his cotton shirt as Jaejoong pushed his nose lightly against his arm. So delicate, so gentle, just like the boy himself. 

             “Jaejoong... I need to talk to you about something,” Yunho forced out. The words felt like needles, grinding against his throat as they clawed their way out of his reluctant mouth. The boy’s touch felt... nice. It felt warm. Relaxing. More calming than the picturesque sky above him. 

             Stopping it took every ounce of willpower he had. 

             “No,” Jaejoong said. Yunho pulled away, staring at the boy who had rattled him with nothing but a forceful syllable whispered into the sleeve of his shirt. 

             “What do you mean no? It wasn’t a question.” 

             “I don’t... I don’t want to hear it,” Jaejoong muttered. His voice sound pained, each harrowed syllable yanking at the veins of Yunho’s heart with a vigor previously unknown to him. “I know what you want to say. And I don’t want to hear it.” 

             Yunho stuffed what was left of his cigarette into the ash-tray that was already b with ashes and made a mental note to dump it whenever he had the chance. 

             He had to deal with the problem. He had to call upon what scraps of maturity he had left - if he had any left at all - and say what he needed to say. 

             “No, Jaejoong, listen to me.” He spun around and placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders, keeping him at arm-length and preventing any of his touches from escalating into something else, which was a very likely possibility with the brazen boy in front of him. “Anything... anything you’re thinking of, any ideas you’re having, I need you to know that they aren’t appropriate. I need you to know that I am an adult. I need you to know that anything you want to happen between us just can’t happen.” 

             Jaejoong hung his head and stared at the floor between them. And Yunho hated the feeling that welled up in his stomach at the sight of a distraught Jaejoong. He hated acting like the very adults he used to detest more than anything when he was nothing but a boy himself. He hated the fake tone in his voice, the rehearsed and practiced script of ‘maturity’ utilized by adults to facing their own emotions. And he hated, more than anything, that he could feel just how much Jaejoong hated it, too.

             “No,” Jaejoong whispered again, lifting his glassy eyes that looked larger than the moon itself. Just a word. Just a syllable to squash the willpower Yunho had conjured up through several strained months. “I... fell in love with you because of your honesty. Because you were different.” Jaejoong’s crimson lips wavered up and down with every word. Distraught, maybe, but still persistent. And more than anything, still stubborn. 

             Just as he always was. 

             “So don’t bull me. Don’t feed me the regular garbage everyone else does. Every single adult I have ever met has lied to me but you. So don’t... don’t start now. Just don’t.”

             Yunho had learned a lot of things since meeting Jaejoong. 

             He had learned that children were even more impossible than he previously had known, and he had learned that no matter how long he lived, he would never want any of his own. 

             He had learned the art of patience, though it had taken him much longer than it should have for someone his age. 

             And he had learned that children driven by love, as insufferable and as clingy as they could be, seemed to be lost in a purity that Yunho could never hope to achieve on his own. 

             And such purity deserved a little transparency on his own end. Truth, it seemed was the only thing he could give. 

             “Alright. You want honesty? Fine. I’ll give you honesty.” Yunho snapped. 

             And in that moment he was scared. 

             Because he didn’t have a clue what would fly out of his mouth. He had leapt into a realm of candor, and he wasn’t sure what he would find. But whatever he did would be tossed into the night air for the boy to hear, and for the first time, for Yunho to truly listen to. 

             “Truth is? I don’t know what I feel for you, Jaejoong. You can ask me a hundred times but my answer won’t change because I just. Don’t. Know.” The truth was coming out now. The truth he had kept under lock and key as long as he had known him was all flying out, like a spigot that had been with nothing to plug it up. “You... you confuse me to no end because I can't understand you. Because I can't understand my feelings for you. Because every time I close my eyes, I see you. Every time I think, I think of you. And every time I see you I just... I don't know what I feel. And I just... I can't... handle that anymore."

             And like a crack of a stick in the midst of the woods, something inside Yunho just snapped. 

             Jaejoong’s identity had been whisked away, mingled with his own and carried off into the night air on a breeze destined for the moon. He was just a body now, a body with cheeks paler than the glaring white stars that hung over their head and watched down on them with a peculiar omnipotence unknown to humans. A body with lips more smooth and inviting than the fruit yearned for by a starving and thirst ridden Tantalus, doomed for eternity to reach for the food that was always mere inches too far. 

             A body that seemed to possess all the beauty of the night sky and more in one small frame. 

             And Yunho? Yunho was just a man. 

             A man faced with a universe of temptation, armed with a frail wooden shield and a crudely fashioned saber. 

             And he was smaller than he’d ever been. 

             He grasped the boy’s shoulders and released months worth of frustration and anger in one forceful kiss, shredding the remains of maturity he may have never possessed in the first place with the feeling of lips touched by angels and crafted by gods, a soft and otherworldly brush so reminiscent of silk he felt himself becoming more and more wrapped up in his full lipped caress. 

             For how long had he wanted to do this, how long had he wanted to wrap his hands around the boy and kiss him with such force that every other feeling simply dissipated and shattered in the air like broken glass. For how long had he lusted for him, and how long had he simply never noticed?

             The feeling of warmth seemed to envelop his whole body, and with every movement of his mouth and forced parting of Jaejoong’s lips he slipped farther into the domain of insanity until he was sure he would lose his grip and plummet into the depths below. 

             So beautiful, so untouched, so lust-filled and wrong and so sickly satisfying. 

             But just as quickly as his senses had left him, they all came back in a rush as his brain finally caught up to speed. He suddenly realized just what he was doing, the rational part of him, if he even had a rational part anymore, screaming the ultimate danger and shrieking the near library of consequences his rash action would cause. 

             He pulled away and was hit with a gunshot of self-loathing the moment he saw the boy’s lips, red and damp from the touch of a forbidden kiss that should have never happened. His eyes were glazed over, the moon shaped spheres looking cloud hidden and hazy, like mere impostors of the glowing white orb that hung over them in the sky with judging eyes. 

             “The... the couch,” he stuttered, his throat suddenly seizing up as he was continually reminded of what he had done with every choked glance at the boy’s red-tinted face. “S-sleep on the couch tonight.”

             He ran inside and slammed the glass door behind him, leaving Jaejoong alone on the balcony to face the watchful eyes of  the sky above. But as the moon as judge and the stars as a grand jury, he was innocent. 

             This time, the guilt could be fixed on only one. 

             Months of willpower, months of resistance and months of pathetically attempted distance, and now, one lust-filled moment to shatter all of it. A moment of warmth and even passion that filled every pore.  

             And now, after months of defiance on both ends, nothing to think of but lips upon lips under a night sky soaked with temptation...

--------------

A/N - omfg took you two long enough

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-Gelisi